Sync Your Heart to the Beat of Mine
by WhiteFlowersOnOurBacks
Summary: Kurt is off to New York, Blaine is back at Dalton, and Sebastian is suspiciously quiet in the corner. Nothing is as easy as anyone wants it to be but maybe it will all be okay in the end. Starts off as Klaine. Eventual Seblaine.
1. Prelude

**Author's note: I'm a little surprised this is actually happening. I don't think I've written a chaptered story since my 2008/2009 Narnia obsession. But here I am, adding to my ever growing Glee story count.  
I'm aiming to update at least once every 9 days. It'll be a little sporadic, because I already have about 20,000 words written, but they're all over the place story wise. I'll obviously be able to update faster when I have most of the next chapter written as opposed to little/none of it done.  
The story picks up where the season left off and therefore starts off as Klaine but will end up a Seblaine story.**

**General Warnings: The story is mostly rated for language and some not terribly explicit sex.**  
**This story will include underage drinking, as well as mentions of drug use and some discussions of suicide/suicidal thoughts. The latter is not a huge part of the story and I will post a warning on the chapter(s) in which it will be mentioned.**  
**I don't like Kurt. I love Klaine, but Kurt as a character kind of really annoys me. I try not to let that come through too much but I'd like to apologize for anyone I offend.**

**Overall disclaimer: If I owned any of this Blaine and Sebastian would have their own late night Cinemax show. Songs aren't mine either. **

**And now that this is about as long as the prelude… on with the show.**

* * *

Watching Rachel board the train to New York all he could think about was how it wasn't fair. It wasn't that he wasn't thrilled for her, he really was. If anyone deserved this, it was her. But Kurt deserved it too. The back of his mind kept reminding him that Kurt had aced his audition; he had been praised for it even. Rachel's had been worse than a train wreck. But somehow she was the one headed off to New York while Kurt stood next to him on the platform and waved.

The rest of his mind worried over the fact that he still hadn't said anything about it. Not to him, at least. Or anyone else in New Directions, if they're constant questioning about how he was handling it was anything to go by. He hadn't even officially told Blaine he hadn't gotten in, just smiled tightly as everyone descended upon Rachel before slipping out of the room.

He glanced over at his boyfriend who, even though he was smiling brightly, was still less enthusiastic then everyone else. As thrilled as Blaine was at the prospect of having an entire extra year with Kurt, he knew he didn't belong here. Stuck in Ohio and doing what? Working at his dad's shop, like he did during school vacations? He belonged on that train, headed somewhere bigger and better.

The car ride back was painfully silent. Blaine couldn't even be properly excited about the fact that he got to drive for once. His Audi might not be as fuel efficient as a Prius, but it was still better then the gas guzzling beast that Kurt drove. It didn't seem so ridiculous when they were just driving around Lima, but when they went anywhere further than half an hour away there were certain economical arguments that Blaine continuously made for using his car instead and Kurt continuously ignored.

Focusing on the road, he pretended not to care that Kurt was frantically texting someone. Ever since that whole Chandler incident they had an unspoken agreement that whoever was on the other end wasn't their business. If Kurt wanted to tell him who he was talking to he would. If he didn't he just had to trust that whatever was being said wasn't aimed at some flamboyant twink. Which he did, most of the time. Usually.

"I'd get out and walk you to the door, but I'm already running 20 minutes late," he said, breaking the silence as they pulled into Kurt's driveway. "And their punishments are brutal. A shot for every 10 minutes. Hopefully I don't hit traffic. I'd like to remember more than the first 5 minutes of tonight."

Kurt's smile didn't quite reach his eyes, but Blaine appreciated the good faith effort. "Have fun. Text me when you get to Columbus? And at the end of the night, just so I know you didn't die. I don't actually trust Wes to keep you alive."

"Will do. Are you sure you don't want to come? You were a Warbler once. I'm sure they wouldn't mind." This was said more out of politeness than anything. They'd already had four separate fights about Blaine's attendance. Well it was really the same fight that happened four different times. Kurt was indignant that he still wanted anything to do with the Warblers. Blaine had continuously assured him that Sebastian was the only one to know about the rock salt.

Besides, he had pouted, it wasn't just going to be the guys involved in that. Everyone who could make it was going to be there, including Wes and Richard and he hadn't seen Richard since he had graduated two years before because he'd been volunteering in Thailand and this was the last night he'd be in Ohio. Richard had basically been Blaine's idol/mentor and he was not passing up the opportunity to see him just because Sebastian was a dick.

Eventually Kurt had stopped bitching every time it was brought up. However he refused to go. At first it was loudly and with much profanity and it was only within the past week that it had turned into a shrug and the passing observance that they had always been more Blaine's friends than his and then proceeded to ignore Blaine's protests that no, they loved him too.

Thus the shake of Kurt's head wasn't at all surprising, nor was the tight press of his lips. He tried not to dwell on it too much as the passenger-side door slammed shut, shaking the car a bit more than was necessary. Instead he waved cheerfully before backing out of the driveway.


	2. Chapter 1

He managed to make it to Columbus in just over 2 hours, an impressive feat considering the accident at exit 89. He was still 50 minutes later which meant…

"Drink up," a voice said gruffly as the door swung open. A shot glass was shoved into his hands and a quartet of others was waiting in the wings and another five lined up on the butler's table next to the door. Given the enormous crowd of boys that just happened to be in the hallway when he rang the bell he could only assume that they'd just been staring out the window waiting for him to get there.

"Richard!" He exclaimed instead. "Don't I even get a hello? It's been years," hoping the added emphasis and puppy dog pout would earn him some extra sympathy.

"You were late, you know the rules."

"Drink. Drink. Drink. Driiiiiink," the boys behind him cheered. Letting out a resigned sigh he tipped his head back and drank the first one shuddering as the whisky burned a path down his throat. He had no clue who exactly was pressing the other glasses into his hand, just downed them one after another. The second tasted suspiciously like mango vodka, the third was peppermint schnapps, the fourth was Jäger, and the final was tequila.

"That was an absolutely vile combination," he spluttered, struggling to convince himself it would be very bad form to throw up all over the Houle's entryway.

"Don't I even get a hello?" Richard mocked, spreading his arms wide. "It's like you're not even excited to see me." So Blaine did the only appropriate thing and dive-tackled him to the ground.

"Reflexes are a bit slow," he laughed, hugging him tightly but not bothering to get up. Richard had a good seven inches and 50 pounds on Blaine.

"I blame the jetlag." He'd only arrived back in the country the day before, stopping over in Columbus before heading home to Seattle.

"Who else is late then?" Blaine asked, nodding towards the other shot glasses. It said a lot about the Warblers in general that none of them even looked a little phased by the fact that two of their members were cuddling in a foyer.

"Sebastian," one of the boys near the back said. He was new this year and Blaine wasn't entirely sure what his name was. Thomas seemed right, or maybe Tim.

Blaine blinked. "Oh. I hadn't realized he was… coming," he said. What he really meant was that he hadn't realized he was invited.

"Of course he is," spoke a serious voice from the back of the crowd. "Warbler tradition dictates that all available council members from the past four years be present at these gatherings."

"Wes!" He yelled, shooting up and into Wes' waiting arms. "I've missed you," he breathed happily.

He spent the next 15 minutes catching up with his old friends and being re-introduced to some of the newer members of the group only stopping when the door slammed and David's triumphant voice cried, "Pizza's hereeee." Immediately he rushed to the other boy's side and grabbed the top six precariously balanced boxes.

"Think you have enough here?" he joked. Of all the Dalton boys he saw David the most. After the Slushie Incident they began meeting for lunch every other Saturday.

"I really hope so. The guy looked at me like I was crazy when I showed up alone to pick these up." He heaved the boxes onto the table then jumped out of the way as they were suddenly swarmed. Blaine deposited his at the other end of the table, a far enough distance away from the others that he was able to snatch the top box away before his pile was also attacked. He clutched the box a little too tightly as a sprinted into the tv room, giggling as he managed to evade the other Warblers and, more importantly, their grabby hands.

He bowed with an overly exaggerated flourish and presented the box to Wes and Richard who were calmly sitting on the most comfortable couch. "For you, messieurs." They nodded graciously. Accepting the box they each separated out three slices for themselves. Blaine selected his three (leaving the remaining three for David) before squishing himself between the two and sighing happily.

This is what he had been missing for what felt like ever. After transferring his fall semester freshman year these two boys had taken it upon themselves to help him adjust. Richard had even taken it one step farther and made it his mission to help Blaine heal. An endeavor which Wes and, eventually, David got dragged in to as well. The four had spent that year almost inseparable. While it was strictly forbidden for the boys to have weekday overnight guests the house parents always seemed to turn a blind eye when they encountered Wes and David in the halls after 11 and somehow their shrieks of laughter at 1 in the morning always seemed to go unnoticed.

The four of them were an unusual group in that they were all in different year. Although the Warblers, as a rule, were all close they did tend to divide up by class. At first it had been a huge joke between them. 'Breaking the rules' and 'transcending boundaries' and all of that. It remained funny until about May when they, rather collectively, realized that holy shit Richard was graduating in less than a month and then taking off to Thailand where he'd get bitten by a spider or attacked by wild monkeys ('Like the Wizard of Oz, but a hundred time worse. And they probably won't be able to fly," Blaine had whimpered) and die.

They had gone out to Seattle to see him off and had cried even more than his mother as they waved him through security. Their own flights home had been eerily quiet and they hadn't even fought over who got the window seat. (Both times it had gone to Wes because he was the only one who seemed to be paying attention at boarding time and was therefore the first on the plane.)

For the rest of the summer and the start of the school year the now-trio were at the same time closer and more distant than ever. Their free time was spent almost exclusively in the company of each other which only seemed to highlight the fact that one of them was missing. It was around the same time that Kurt showed up that they finally managed to get everything sorted amongst themselves. Although he never knew it, he was actually a large part of helping that process; instead of pining for Richard they turned their focus to teasing Blaine.

When it came time for Wes to graduate they thought they were better prepared. After all, he was only going to Connecticut and while there was always the possibility that he would be killed in a landslide of textbooks it wasn't quite the same as the threat of poisonous insects crawling into his bed at night. Combined with the fact that he, at least, would have reliable internet it really didn't seem that bad in comparison.

Blaine had maybe been a little distracted by Kurt and David had been absorbed by the college prep frenzy and somehow none of them took the others into account when making their summer work schedule so while graduation itself wasn't that bad move-in was awful.

First, their week long New England road trip was cut short because Blaine hadn't been able to get that much time off work at such a short notice. He had offered to just fly into Boston and meet up with them there, but they had stoutly refused because they'd been planning this since Wes' acceptance letter came in the mail. So they'd cut out the Cape and Rhode Island and it was still five really awesome days.

They'd taken pictures and videos absolutely everywhere and spammed Richard's inbox with them until he complained that their 1 hour and 37 minute video of them just driving had nearly broken the internet in all of Thailand. They made a bajillion facebook albums after and tagged him in every single picture and turned deaf hears on the resulting complaints from having over 2,000 notification in three days. As much as he whined, he'd be even more upset if he was totally left out of the experience. Hence the driving video, because the experience would be incomplete without the hours of nothing to stare at and the 30 minutes straight that David had spent whimpering because he really needed to pee but was too shy to do it on the roadside like Wes and Blaine did.

Then they were suddenly in New Haven and taking a tour of Wes' new school while waiting for his parents to get there with all of his stuff. Between the five of them it took almost no time to unload everything. They sang Disney songs throughout the unpacking process (starting, of course, with Whistle While You Work) and ended with an overly emotional rendition of Best of Friends. Which had maybe been how Wes' roommate first met them, but he swore it only traumatized him for like a month, and at least it hadn't been when they belted out into Wish Me Luck As You Wave Me Good-Bye when they were driving away.

Everything had been fine on the drive back until they reached Allentown and they burst into obligatory song. After a week of the three of them, their voices didn't fill up the car the same. For the first time they seemed to realize that it was just of the two of them and that was just weird because it had never been just the two of them. It wasn't that he and David weren't close, because they were, but they'd always been close with other people around.

Forgoing their original plan of stopping just west of Harrisburg they rotated driving on and off for the next 450 miles. They talked a bit and played silly car games until the silences became too long and whoever wasn't driving dropped off to sleep. At long last they made it back to Columbus and Blaine was eternally grateful that David had been the one driving because it meant that he was just rested enough to continue the hour and 45 minute drive home. He grabbed his bag and jumped out of the car, promising that he'd be back on his first day off so they could sort through their souvenirs which had managed to end up in a pile on the back seat.

Seventeen hours after leaving New Haven, Blaine was staggering up the stairs and flopping down on his bed, only just remembering to kick his shoes off before falling into the deepest sleep in the history of the world. Twenty hours later he was awoken by the blare of his alarm clock because fuck, he had work. He felt marginally more human after he had showered and had his first cup of coffee and was even on the cusp of humming when he checked his phone. And saw he had fifty new texts and ten new voicemails. All of them were somewhere on the spectrum of 'Getting a little worried. Hope you got home okay. Assuming you just passed out, text me when you leave for work. I love you.' to 'IF I START MY SCHOOL YEAR BY HAVING TO COME HOME TO ATTEND YOUR FUNERAL BECAUSE YOU AND DAVID WERE TOO STUPID TO STOP FOR THE NIGHT I'M GOING TO EVISCERATE YOU.'

He quickly sent out a mass text assuring everyone he had made it home fine and was now on his way to work. At first he was hurt that Kurt only seemed to be mildly concerned about him (at least compared to Wes and David) before realizing that he had forgotten to tell him they weren't stopping for the night. He sent an extra 'I love you,' message to his boyfriend before heading out for the day.

School had been due to start up soon and the next two weeks were spent trying to pack his room and exhaustively talking to David about their plans for the Warblers. He had almost convinced Blaine to join the council. It had been a good neutral ground for them to bond over as they once again adjusted to their dwindling group. They had just made it to comfortable ground when, out of nowhere, Blaine had done the unthinkable and transferred.

All of the Warbler's had been hurt by that, even Wes a little because Blaine hadn't even mentioned it to him. But none of them were as betrayed as David who now found himself very abruptly and unexpectedly alone. They barely talked from the day he took off his Dalton uniform until the day after his surgery.

"-I'm going to try. He's only had like one bite from his first slice," a voice was whispering over his head. He felt an arm snake around his front and reflexively he threw himself over his pizza.

"Don't even, David." He threatened. "I was just thinking. But I fully plan on eating that."

"Thinking about what, Buttercup?" Then they were all grinning and piled together in a tangle of limbs and someone was licking Blaine's face. The rest of the Warblers were cheering and taking bets on who would be thrown off the couch first. And this, Blaine thought, was exactly the way life should be. The perfect moment was interrupted by the doorbell echoing throughout the house.

"And that must be the elusive Sebastian." Richard was clawing his way out from the bottom of the pile, spilling onto the floor with a dying grin on his face. "Only an hour and twenty minutes late."

Everyone rushed to the door. Being over an hour late had a grave consequence that no one wanted to miss.

"Sorry I'm late," Sebastian was saying when Blaine got there, not really sounding sorry at all. "Where are my shots?" he asked. Blaine couldn't help but feel a little smug, because that meant Sebastian had never been part enough of the Warbler's to know and soon he'd be finding out in the worst way possible.

"As tradition dictates," Wes recited solemnly, clearing a path from the kitchen to the entryway, "any Warbler who is over an hour late for a Warbler party in which libations are being offered, must drink the Draught of Death." He walked forward, followed by all the other council members with Richard bringing up the rear, clasping an ominous looking chalice in his hands. The chalice, Blaine knew, contained all of his shots, combined together into a truly vile drink. "Furthermore," Wes continued, "if said party is, or ever has been, a council member the Draught is to be mixed with beer and Tabasco sauce. Said drink must be consumed within five minutes of presentation, or the Warbler in question will face further punishment."

Richard was now standing in front of Sebastian, looking like he was about to offer communion.

"You, Sebastian Smythe are charged with the grievous crime of being late," he said. He had never quite been able to match Wes when it came to gravitas. "This cup is your punishment. You have five minutes."

Sebastian took the proffered chalice and even Blaine was impressed by the way he managed to repress a shudder as he looked down at it. Somewhere a beep alerted them to the fact that a stopwatch was now keeping time. In living Warbler memory this had only happened one other time and he had been unable to complete the challenge.

Raising the cup to his lips Sebastian started drinking and didn't stop until it was empty, his adam's apple bobbing in a really distracting manner the entire time.

"Shall we move this party elsewhere?" Sebastian finally choked out, interrupting the stunned silence and trying desperately to pretend like his eyes weren't watering. They began dispersing and Blaine quickly decided that he needed another drink.

Three hours later he found himself licking tequila off of Richard's stomach which certainly wasn't the weirdest place he'd ever licked tequila from but the way Sebastian was glaring at them made him feel more uncomfortable than he ever had licking anything from anywhere.

"Dude, what the hell?" he growled, stalking Sebastian from the room. If he was drunk it was nothing compared to the other latecomer who was struggling to even hold himself up with the help of a wall. "No, no, no," he whined, rushing to the other boy's side. "Okay, we need to get you lying down somewhere." He stooped down and looped the taller boy's arm around his neck before staggering to the nearest guest bedroom.

"Blay?" he muttered, toppling onto the bed. "'Zat you?"

"Yeah," he sighed desperately attempting to disentangle himself from the limbs that were suddenly all over him.

"Fuck, Blay. 'M sorry. Merde, J'suis désolé. Merde. Merde. So sorry," he mumbled.

"Shhhh," he soothed. "It's okay. Shhh. What're you sorry about?"He was very intentionally not composing a laundry list of things Sebastian should be sorry for in his head.

"Votre oeil," he whimpered."Merde. Désolé."

Blaine wasn't really sure what he had ever done to deserve this. He could think of a million better things he could be doing then babysitting Sebastian who was so drunk he couldn't even form real words. It took another minute of petulant glaring before if hit him. "That's not English, is it? It's French, isn't it?"He said resignedly. Of course it was. Sebastian knew very well that the only French he knew was whatever he could order off a menu.

"Let's try that again," he said too brightly. "But this time in English. Because it doesn't count as an apology if I have no idea what you're saying."

"Oeil. Ton oeil!" Sebastian was now yelling and gesticulating wildly to Blaine's face. "Oeil."

"I'm just going to go. I'll come back to check on you in a little bit. Maybe you'll be speaking English by then." Or passed out in a drunken stupor. Either would work. "I'll bring you back some water. Right now, I'm just a little afraid you're flailing is going to poke out my eye." With that he left the room to Sebastian's muttered insistence of 'oeil'.

If he felt at all guilty about it taking an hour and a half before he made it back to the guest bedroom he certainly didn't show it. As promised he returned with a glass of water but he was hardly going to miss out on the strong pong tournament. (He and Richard had made it to the third round. They would have made it further but Richard hadn't done a pull up since middle school.)

"Feeling better?" He asked, pitching his voice just this side of too loud and too high. "You're missing out on all the fun."

"I'm sure you're all having more fun without me," came the sullen reply from under a pile of pillows. And that was true, but fuck what did you say in response to that? Luckily Blaine was spared the need to come up with something terribly witty by Sebastian continuing. "Shit. I should have stopped drinking about 10 drinks ago. Everything is spinning."

He nodded in agreement. Barely twenty minutes after finishing the Draught, Blaine had seen Sebastian with another drink in his hand. In fact, his hand hadn't been empty all night so far as Blaine could tell and it always seemed to be a different drink. He would probably be dead if he drank anywhere near that much. The half of him that sounded alarmingly like his mother was tempted to give Sebastian a lecture on responsible alcohol consumption.

"We were all pretty impressed with how you downed the Draught," he said instead because Sebastian was the last person in the world who deserved his maternal instincts. "I only had to do the five shots and it tasted awful. I can't even imagine what that was like."

Sebastian chuckled. "Once you've had an ancient overweight Parisian's cock down your throat in the grimiest back alley you can find you stop paying attention to flavor."

Which shouldn't have surprised Blaine, but it did. "Ancient?" he finally spluttered.

"Mmm. He was like 45. Might as well have been the crypt keeper."

"Speaking of French," Blaine practically screeched in his haste to chance topics. "Do you remember what you were trying to say before? You were apologizing for something."

Sebastian's head popped out from under the pillows and it absolutely wasn't the most adorable thing Blaine had seen that week, cheeks all creased and hair sticking up all over the place. "Oh," he said stupidly, "that was in French?"

"Yeah, you idiot. It was." The idiot floated somewhere between hostile and fond.

"I was apologizing. For your face." Sebastian was looking at him like he was the one being ridiculous. "Not in a stupid comeback way. Like 'I'm sorry your face is ugly,'" he laughed to himself. "It's not by the way." He looked extremely concerned that Blaine might actually believe him on that. "It's a very nice face. I especially like your nose. It's cute. But I meant your eye. Votre oeil. I'm still sorry."

"You already apologized for that," Blaine said stiffly.

"It was a bad apology. Not sure this one is better. At least I'll remember that one. But I don't know if I'll really ever see you. So I thought might as well." He shrugged. "I think about it all the time. And I fucking hate it, because I don't regret things. I can't regret things. But I regret that. It wasn't even meant for you. It was meant for Kurt. And the rest of the Warblers thought it was for-"

"Santana," Blaine interrupted. "Yeah, they told me."

"How was I supposed to know you were going to jump in front of him? And that you weren't going to shut your fucking eyes like every other person instinctually does when something comes flying at their face? Even my most diabolical scheming couldn't have made that happen. I didn't mean to hurt anyone," he pouted.

"You threw a slushie at my boyfriend. You meant to hurt someone."

"I hate your boyfriend. He called me a meerkat and said I smell like Craig's List."

Blaine's smile was a little too gleeful. "Did he really? He never told me that."

"You're mean, Blaine Anderson," he yawned. "Don't know why I ever wasted time liking you."


	3. Chapter 2

**So many people favorited and added this to their alerts! I'm honored. And was motivated to get this chapter written and posted much sooner than expected. Thank you so much everyone. :-) And a special thanks to JAX001993 for their review. 3  
No Sebastian in this chapter. :-( But I promise he'll be back soon.**

* * *

Never in his entire life had he been so nervous about a dinner. It was just a meal, with a family he already knew and knew well. There were weeks when he saw Burt more often than he saw his own dad. Nor was it the first time that he had eaten with them. Carole knew all of his favorite foods and even texted him whenever she made her famous chicken and bean stew. But this was his first Hummel-Hudson Friday night dinner. Despite what Kurt kept saying, it was a big deal.

He had spent a good two hours debating what to wear. Everything was either too formal or too casual. He missed his Dalton uniform and the simplicity that came with just wearing that all the time. Eventually he settled on jeans and a button down with one of his signature bowties. Now he was kind of regretting the bowtie because he was pretty sure it wanted to strangle him.

Luckily, Carole seemed to be the only person who noticed his anxiety. Finn was telling a story about a dog that had chased him and Puck when they walked into the wrong backyard because Finn couldn't read his own writing which had Burt and Kurt laughing hysterically.

"So, Blaine," Carole said once Kurt's giggling had subsided, "how's work going for you this summer? Are you back at the park?"

"No ma'am," he said politely, laying his knife and fork down. Finn snorted. "I'm interning part time at the firm of a family friend. It's nothing very exciting; running around getting coffee, a lot of filing, sitting in on conference calls. In a few weeks I'm going to start reading over some contracts and compiling data from them. Grunt work, mostly. But it's good to be doing something different and getting some 'real world experience,' as my father calls it."

"It certainly is different. Making you all kinds of formal too."

"Very different, sir. Burt," he corrected, blushing. "It's not so bad though. Since I'm working part time I'll be able to go back to fencing regularly, and I'll get to see Toby more often. And Kurt too, of course." Kurt beamed.

"Speaking of Kurt," Burt turned on his son, "You figured out what you're doing yet? The guys love having you around the shop, but I can't really see you working there for more than a couple weeks. Too much grease."

"I have, actually." He was excited, but also very clearly avoiding looking at Blaine. His eyes shifted between Burt and Carole, even once drifting to Finn before resolutely returning to his dad. "After much thought and consideration it's been decided that Kurt Hummel is headed to New York after all. As we speak Rachel and her parents are scouting out an apartment for us to move into starting in August. I'll get a job somewhere terribly romantic and take some theater classes on the side."

"Wait. I thought she was going to live in the dorms," Finn said, breaking the stunned silence that followed Kurt's announcement.

"She was. Until she saw them. According to her they make Puck's room look like a 5 star hotel."

"I won't pretend like I'm not going to miss you. But I am so proud of you, son. Even after what happened, you're still chasing your dream."

"We're both proud of you," Carole said, but her eyes weren't focused on Kurt, they were focused on the boy sitting next to him who was looking more than a little shell-shocked.

"Yeah. That's really awesome, man! Don't you think so, Blaine?" Finn, like always, was totally oblivious.

"Yeah, it's great." He enthused; plastering on a grin that he hoped wasn't too manic. "New York better watch out." And finally Kurt looked over at him with a smile full of gratitude and adoration.

Talk of Kurt's plans lasted through dessert, a delicious looking cheesecake that somehow managed to stick to the back of Blaine's throat no matter how much he swallowed. Begging an overfull stomach after only his second bite, he threw himself into the conversation, suggesting all sorts of bizarre decorating ideas until, laughing, Kurt told him to shut up and swore he would never let him design so much as a closet.

As they headed to the living room to fight over what movie to watch Blaine's phone went off. He plunged his hand into his pocket, hoping it was his mother wondering where he was. It wasn't.

"Everything okay?" Kurt asked quietly as Blaine fiddled with his phone, looking very indecisive.

"Yeah." He sighed, making his mind up about something. "I think so. I'm not sure. That was Marguerite," he explained, like that meant anything to Kurt. "She's kind of worried about Toby. He's acting really weird. I think I should go check on him." It was a liberal interpretation of her 'What the hell is up with your horse? He's even more restless than normal.' text and he had been planning on going to the barn tomorrow morning anyway. But he couldn't spend the next three hours just sitting next to Kurt pretending like everything was fine.

"Oh." Kurt's voice was laced with disappointment. "Is it bad? Do you want me to come with you?"

"I'm sure he's fine. He's just a little temperamental; probably just sulking because I didn't make it over yesterday. Or a new stable hand gave him a white sugar cube instead of a brown one. But.." he shrugged.

"Better safe than sorry," Kurt finished, lacing their fingers together. "I understand. But tell Toby he owes me." He pressed a kiss to the corner of Blaine's mouth. "And thank you for being so supportive about New York. It all just happened so quickly."

Blaine smiled as brightly as he could. "Hey, I think it's great. You're too big for a town like this," he mimicked a swagger. "I'm proud of you."

And he was, he realized as he drove away. He was so proud of his boyfriend. And he wasn't at all surprised by this decision. He was just hurt by the fact that, despite seeing him every day, Kurt hadn't even hinted at the fact this might be happening.

He had no doubt that it did happen quickly. It wasn't even a week ago that they were waving Rachel off at the train station. He now felt pretty sure that all the frantic texting that had been going on was to Rachel. Which meant that it was being planned while they were in the same room and Kurt still hadn't mentioned anything. And who else knew? Mercedes, probably. And Rachel, obviously. But Finn hadn't known, which meant it was unlikely that the rest of the glee club did, which was something at any rate.

He sighed. It wasn't his decision, ultimately (or at all apparently). In the long run it would be for the best. All he could do now was be the most supportive boyfriend in the whole world and buy something horribly patterned that they felt obligated to put in some hidden corner as a going away/house warming present.

When he got home around 11.30 the first thing he did was text Kurt.

**Toby's fine. Just missing me, the big baby. He's sorry for interrupting our evening.  
I really am proud of you. xo**  
**-**

Two weeks later Blaine was sprawled out on the Berry's lawn trying to look like he was enjoying himself. Kurt and Mercedes were poolside, looking at the latest issue of Vogue. Puck, Mike, Tina, and Sugar were just starting round 3 of their chicken fight. Quinn was shrieking because Sam kept 'accidently' splashing her. Everyone was having fun. He was too, but it just didn't feel right.

"Preparing to set off to Mount Doom, hobbit?" Santana plopped down next to him. She was wearing a scarlet bikini that really didn't leave much to the imagination.

"Excuse me?"

"Something big must be going on behind those ginormous eyebrows to have you looking so upset. Tell Auntie Tana all about it."

"It's nothing," he said unconvincingly.

"You look like someone just killed your puppy. If you were any other guy I'd get Brittney over here and we'd get our sweet lady kisses on in front of you but something tells me you won't enjoy that. So we're gonna talk it out instead."

"I'm thinking about transferring back to Dalton," he surprised himself by saying. He hadn't actually been, not specifically. He had been thinking about how much he missed the Warbler's and how, as great as this was, he would have preferred to be by David's pool, waiting for the burger's to be done and making fun of Trent's inevitably horrendous swim trunks.

"Little surprised you lasted at McKinley as long as you did. Rich, gay, midgets ain't exactly cut out for our halls."

Blaine shrugged. "Kurt was so happy to have me there. It made it worth it. But…"

"He won't be there next year. Off to live the dream in New York with Berry. Leaving you behind."

He hesitated. She was making it sound like it was Kurt's fault and it wasn't. Even if he had decided to stay in Ohio he still would be graduated. And it wasn't just him who was leaving. All of the people he was closest to had been seniors. Puck, Mike, Rachel, Santana, even Finn.

"All the things I liked about McKinley are gone. And the New Directions, you guys are great. I love you. But you're Kurt's family, not mine."

"And the Warbler's are?"

"Sebastian's an ass. He's not the Warbler's."

"He is quite the bitch," Santana agreed, although her tone had a certain grudging respect. "I, unlike everyone else, know that whole blinding you thing wasn't his plan. Only you would be dumb enough not to close your eyes," she rolled her eyes and it was eerie how like Sebastian she was sometimes. "He can apologize all he wants but that doesn't suddenly make him a good person."

Blaine remained quiet. Even when he was friends with Sebastian he had never been delusional enough to think he was a good person. But he was a person, and that was something people tended to forget.

"So what does Hummel think of this grand plan of yours?"

"Yeah. I haven't actually talked to him about it yet."

"Oh god," she burst out laughing. "Please record that conversation. He is not going to be happy."

"The thought had crossed my mind."

"Well your secret is safe with me," she mimed zipping her lips.

"I'll be sure to stay on your good side then," he said wryly. As far as he could tell Santana had two main talents in life, telling secrets and keeping them.

"You deserve to be happy too. Remember that." She smiled shyly like she always did when she was being genuinely nice to him. "Now less with the talking. I needs to be getting my tan on."

He didn't talk to Kurt about it, not yet. Two days later, however, he did drive out to Westerville and flirt shamelessly with Doris, the admissions secretary. When he left it was with an application for his readmission. It sat on his desk for nearly a week before he filled it out. He hadn't decided anything but it couldn't hurt to fill it out. If it just happened to find its way into the mailbox it was only because he'd spent a lot of time on it and it would be a shame to waste that paper. It wasn't like he was set on transferring or anything. He was just being environmentally conscious.

Twelve days later Doris called. He had been readmitted. He knew he should talk to Kurt, but first he had to tackle his parents. They would be the ones paying for it and it would silly to get Kurt all upset if they were just going to refuse.

His relationship with his parents was complicated. He knew they loved him, never doubted that for an instant. They supported his various endeavors, sitting through an endless amount of shows when he and Cooper were growing up, driving him all over the Midwest for fencing tournaments, buying him a horse when he became serious about polo, letting him transfer to McKinley.

They always supported him, but they didn't understand him. His sexuality was a taboo topic around the house. His mother just ignored it; his father was actively upset by it. It wasn't strictly that he didn't like gay people. He was always polite, even friendly towards Kurt, even if he refused to acknowledge the fact that he was dating his son. Kurt was obviously gay, a blind man could tell. Blaine was not.

Blaine played sports. He actively followed football and baseball. He might spend a little extra time on his appearance, but he could also spend the entire day in sweats. He did enjoy musical theater, but that was because he was well cultured. Even when he was still in a co-ed school most of his friends were guys and they spent their free time playing video games and getting into all sorts of trouble. He was just like any other boy and this whole gay thing was just a phase. As his father, it was his duty to help him figure that out, sooner rather than later.

After their car bonding summer Blaine had become determined to make his father realize he was gay and always would be. He quit fencing and stopped playing polo. He still went to the barn, though. It wouldn't have been fair to Toby if he didn't. He only listened to show tunes and top 40 music.

It hadn't worked and now they were more distant than ever. Especially after McKinley.  
So this conversation would go one of two ways. His father would either be elated that he was making a mature decision and getting over his 'silly little fit' (as he heard it described over the phone) or he'd finally have enough of fulfilling Blaine's flighty whims.

"I want to go back to Dalton," he announced in the middle of yet another silent dinner. His parents looked at each other. His mother nodded.

"I saw your application in the mail. I already sent in your deposit," his father said shortly, not looking up from his roast beef. "They still had a single open. I signed you up for it. You don't want to spend your senior year living in a quad with a bunch of sophomores."

Blaine resisted the urge to tell him that Dalton didn't have quads and that they would never put a senior with a bunch of sophomores. Instead he beamed and quietly said, "Thanks, Dad. I appreciate it."

Now it was time to tell Kurt.


	4. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: Remember that time I said I was going to try not to hate on Kurt? I might've lied a little. So get ready for some passive-aggressive Kurt hating. Once again, Sebastian is absent but his gorgeous self will be back either in the next chapter or the one after. Although he won't really be around too much until school starts back up.  
I am loving all the novel-eqsue reviews. Keep 'em coming. And cookies to anyone who notices all the Darren Criss/Starkid references that keep bleeding through. I should probably not be watching their shows while writing this.**

**That said, let the fighting begin!**

* * *

Unsurprisingly, the conversation was not going very well. There had been five minutes of silence, followed by fifteen minutes of ranting, and now they had moved on to the yelling.

"And what do you mean you were accepted a couple of weeks ago?" Kurt was shouting. "Is this payback for New York? Because that's low. Like Real Housewives low."

"What? No! Of course not." He sighed. "I only started thinking about it a few weeks ago, when I was talking to Santana at Rachel's party."

"Blaine, that was a month ago!" Kurt exclaimed in exasperation. Then, "_Santana _knows?"

"Santana is my friend," said wearily, the result of a conversation had too many times. "And she doesn't know I'm actually going back or that I had even applied. You're the first person I've told, except my parents. And I would've talked to you about it earlier, but I wasn't sure it was even going to happen and I know you were going to make it into a big deal and I didn't want to get you unnecessarily upset, over nothing."

"It is a big deal. My upset is entirely necessary. Need I remind you they almost blinded you?"

"Sebastian is not Dalton, nor is he the Warblers. He is one person and he is responsible for his own actions," Blaine ground out. "Besides, it was an accident."

"An accident?" Kurt's voice had reached an astounding new level of shrillness. Dogs three towns over were probably cowering.

"Yes. It was an accident. He wasn't even aiming at me. I'm just the idiot that jumped in front of it, eyes wide open."

"So its your fault? You blinded yourself?"

"It's no one's fault. That's why its called an accident."

"Corneas don't get deeply scratched by accident." Which was a patently stupid argument. Blaine wasn't an expert or anything, but he was pretty sure most scratched corneas happened by random mishap and not malicious intent. Given the lack of police inquiry that followed his stay in the hospital he figured the ER doctors were inclined to agree.

"What about the headmaster?" Kurt asked, switching tact. "He didn't do anything last year. Just let Sebastian do whatever the fuck he wanted, no matter who it hurt."

"Because Figgins is so much better? Dalton's headmaster has always been a money hungry ass. But the rest of the faculty is great. You know that."

"What's wrong with McKinley?" Kurt asked, small and defeated. And that was so much worse than when he as yelling because Kurt never stopped fighting.

Blaine got up and walked over to his bookshelf, eyes sweeping over the familiar spines as he tried to gather his thoughts.

"There's nothing wrong with McKinley," That was a lie, the list of things that weren't wrong with McKinley pretty much started and stopped at glee club. But for whatever, inexplicable, reason Kurt loved that school, "or the New Directions. I loved being there and being part of the group. But that was because I had you. And Santana, and Mike-"

"And Rachel," Kurt interjected.

"And Rachel," Blaine agreed. "But you guys aren't going to be there next year."

"What about your other friends?" Because it wasn't like Blaine never talked to anyone outside of glee.

"They all graduated too. Surely you noticed I took almost all senior level classes last year? I'm not actually sure what classes I would be taking if I went back," he admitted with an attempt at a weak laugh. "My education is important to me, Kurt."

"And mine wasn't? Just because we aren't all rich kids who were admitted to Harvard when we were born doesn't mean we aren't just as smart or care just as much about academics."

"That's not what I meant," he groaned, ignoring the urge to point out that Dalton boys tended to pick Yale or Columbia, and also that never, in the noble and glorious history of Dalton Academy had they ever had anyone (much less their senior class president) finish the year with a 0.0 GPA. You were put on academic probation if it dipped below a 3.0 and asked to leave if you had lower than a C average.

"Its like I said. I already took most of the classes I would be taking this year. I'd probably end up taking a bunch of filler art and shop classes. But Dalton just hired a new teacher and, apparently, they're offering a _neurobiology_ class this year," his eyes glowed with excitement. "And they have more AP courses including Italian, Kurt. Italian. The only time I've used Italian since transferring was when we went to that restaurant in Columbus and the waitress didn't even understand what I said and she pronounced everything wrong."

"Well I'm sorry the entire world isn't as cultured as you are." Kurt was being petty and snapping, which was actually a good sign because it meant he was about to give in.

"It's one of the many burdens we Andersons are forced to bear. Along with being endlessly charming and good looking," He tested the waters with a joke, relieved when the corners of Kurt's lips twitched upwards.

"And modest. You forgot modest," Kurt added, flopping backwards onto Blaine's bed.

"How could I?" Blaine asked, slapping his hand to his forehead. "If only you could have met my grandfather. Modest to a t, that man was. And never ostentatious.

Kurt cocked his head, "Wasn't he the one that ate off the golden plate?"

"Only for the last six years and only at Christmas!" He pretended to be indignant, before adding thoughtfully, "After he died we found out it was actually a dollar store plate that he had covered in gold. We didn't even know he knew what a dollar store was." He shook his head. "There's really no hope for me to turn out normal."

He crawled onto the bed and curled up around his boyfriend, happily breathing in his scent. They lay cuddled together for a long time, Blaine humming softly under his breath and Kurt's hand making broad sweeps up and down his boyfriend's back.

"I'm still not okay with this. I'm never going to be okay with this," Kurt said eventually. "I still think you could be happy at McKinley, if you gave it a try, even without me. And I don't like that you'll be anywhere near Sebastian on a daily basis. But you've already decided, and I'm sure you're parents have already paid tuition. So it really doesn't matter what I think. I just wish you told me earlier."

"I know I should have. I'm sorry," he said with begging eyes. "I really didn't think I would be let back in. I've never heard of someone transferring out and then back."

"Of course they let you back. You're, like, their poster boy," he snorted.

That was an embarrassingly true fact. Accepted students day his freshman year still remained one of the most humiliating days of his life; walking into the main hall and seeing his grinning face plastered pretty much everywhere as the school eagerly advertised their zero tolerance for bullying policy to the mothers of all the potential freshman.

("Oh, God," he had whimpered into Wes' jacket, looking at the posters in horror. "Do my eyes really sparkle that much all the time?" "Always, buttercup," Richard had assured him without the slightest hint of compassion. Wes was equally cold hearted, twisting away from Blaine's clutches. "It's all the gay inside of you, brimming over, bursting out.")

There was also an interview which Richard might have had framed and hung up in the Warbler room. But Kurt didn't know about that and if Blaine had his way he never would. He knew he wouldn't, though. Richard would probably wrap it up and give it to them as a wedding present or something equally horrifying and oh God, he really hated his friends sometimes.

The idiocy of his friends was the least of his problems, he realized about week later. He had been stupid to think that was the end of their fight and that anything had been at all resolved. At this rate there wouldn't be a wedding for people to give humiliating gifts at because Blaine was going to strangle Kurt.

It was probably karma, he decided, for the 5 seconds he had been pleased at Kurt's pettiness as he was now redefining the word petty on an hourly basis. Mostly this consisted of using the word decide or some variation of it at every possibly opportunity. He also did really weird things, like call Blaine every morning to tell him what he was wearing and what he was planning on having for breakfast. He didn't need his mother's psychology degree to figure out what was going on. He might have deserved it a little, so his primary tactic was to grin and bear it.

Mildly homicidal tendencies aside, it was going swimmingly until Thursday afternoon. He'd gotten off work earlier than expected and swung by the garage to pick up his boyfriend so they could go shopping. Kurt was just finishing up so he headed to the back office where Burt was working on some paperwork.

Blaine had just started telling him about The Water Cooler Incident when Kurt walked in, sleeves rolled up and covered in car grease.

"Ready?"

"What the hell is that on your arm?" Burt growled.

"Oh this?" Kurt asked nonchalantly. "Just something I got done last night when I was out with the girls. I hadn't planned on it, but we walked by the parlor and I just thought what the hell." He might have been responding to his father, but he was staring directly at Blaine. "I know it's a pretty big decision but I talked it over with all the important people first."

"For fuck's sake," Blaine muttered, too annoyed to even care that he had just sworn in front of his boyfriend's father. "Don't worry, Burt. It's fake. For one, the skin doesn't look at all irritated, which it should if you had that done less than 24 hours ago. Also, after Diamond Jacks closed down, the only place he could have gotten it done in Lima was at Wizard's, which is closed on Wednesday nights. And," he continued, turning on Kurt, "next time at least do something believable. A tribal band? Seriously? You'd cut off your arm before you permanently decorated it with something that tacky."

Looking back and forth between the two boys, Burt slowly stood up and began edging out of the room. "I think I hear Hank calling," he lied. "So I'm just going to..." He backed out of the room shutting the door a little louder than necessary behind him.

"How do you know so much about tattoos" sulked Kurt, still glaring across the desk.

"I went with Richard and my brother when they got theirs done. I pass Wizard's every day on the way to work. Even at 8 in the morning it's a little hard to ignore the huge sign saying 'closed Wednesdays.' And everyone knows about Jacks." About a year ago it came out that Jack was a gay man living with AIDs. He had basically been run out of town and the scandal was covered in the news for weeks.

"Here I was thinking it was because you were secretly covered in them."

"You've seen me naked. Multiple times!" Blaine cried out in frustration, throwing his hands up in the air. "Unless you think I'm hiding them on the inside of my eyelids or something..."

"Wouldn't put it past you," he snapped back.

"You know, I'm getting really sick of your crap. You've been being a brat all week and it's getting really old. If you're mad about Dalton say something."

"Of course I'm mad about Dalton. You were thinking about for a month and you never said anything. How can I not be mad about that?"

"I already apologized for that and explained why I did it."

"I can still be angry about it."

"I don't see how where I finish high school has any effect on you anyway. Why does it make a difference if I'm in Westerville or Lima?"

"It matters because we're in a relationship. And we're supposed to talk about these things!"

"So we're supposed to talk about me transferring back to my old school, to be with my friends but when it comes to you moving hundreds of miles away you don't have to say anything? That's bullshit."

"I made that decision in under a week, not over the course of a month."

"You were texting Rachel and Mercedes about it while I was sitting next to you. You could have mentioned something. You were already looking at apartments when you told us."

"You can't just get an apartment in New York City at the last minute. We needed to start looking immediately."

"The first I heard anything about it I was eating dinner with your family." Because at the end of the day, that was really what hurt the most. Not only had Kurt been obviously avoiding telling him, he had basically mandated how Blaine would react to the news. He was either thrilled about it or an absolute asshole.

"You said this had nothing to do with New York."

"It doesn't."It didn't, really. There were many other facts and considerations that went into his decision to remain quiet on the subject. He hadn't told _anyone_ about it. If, maybe, a small voice in the back of his head just happened to point out that if Kurt could make his own huge life decisions on his own than he could too, well it wasn't like it was wrong but it certainly wasn't the deciding factor of it all. "I don't remember you being upset by me making my own decisions when they benefited you." He was pacing now.

"That was different. I asked you to. You didn't just do it."

"I changed my life for you. You can't honestly be surprised that I'd change it back when you leave. Santana wasn't."

"Well if Santana knows you so well and supports you so goddamn much why don't you just date her."

"I'm not feeling very much like going out with you today, Kurt," Blaine said tiredly. If they had reached the point in the argument where Kurt was actually suggesting he date a lesbian it wasn't worth having anymore."You need to lay off Santana, at least around me. And you're either going to get over what I did or you're not. I've apologized, I admitted I was wrong. You haven't done either, yet. I have as much right to be angry as you. But I forgave you within hours. So just get the fuck over yourself already." He grabbed his keys off the desk and strode across the room. "And," he paused, hand on the doorknob, "at least my choices end with us being closer together, not farther apart."He stormed from the room, barely even nodding at Burt on his way out.

Kurt stared after him, indignation written on every inch of his face.

"Couldn't help but overhearing that," Burt said. "Kid isn't entirely wrong, bud. You don't have to like his decisions and I get why you're angry with him. But part of loving someone is supporting them, even when you don't agree. Like he's doing with you. Wouldn't kill you to do the same."

"Why are you taking his side?"

"I'll always be on your side, Kurt. Even when you're not."

"I'm not apologizing to him. I didn't do anything wrong."

* * *

**I really am sorry to all the Kurt fans out there/anyone else who doesn't think he spends a good 80% of his time being an irrational jackass.**

**Also do you prefer the shorter chapters with more frequent updates or would you rather longer but only updating once every 9ish days or so? I wish I could make it more often, but I'm currently working full time and I live about an hour from my job. **


	5. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: This was supposed to be out a few days sooner, but about halfway through writing I thought that it was the perfect opportunity to sneak in a bit of Wes and David (as requested) and of course Richard refused to be left out. Then they wouldn't go away for 6 pages. So this ended up being about double the intended length. I was tempted to just split it, but then i realized that I've been saying for the past two chapters that Sebby would be back and it seemed too cruel to put that off again.**

**Also, I did that thing where I swore I saved this on one computer, so I deleted it from other ones and then shut down my computer and guess what? it didn't save. So I panicked for about an hour before remember that I had been saving it to google docs. I still haven't assessed the full damage, but my skim through shows the majority of next chapter is still there, so hopefully that will be up in less than 5 days.**

* * *

Not talking to Kurt was weird. Even when they were just becoming friends, they had some form of communication on a daily basis, whether it was through texts, facebook, or IM. This was their fourth major fight and they seemed to be handling it the same way they did all the others, by totally ignoring each other.

Kurt hadn't even liked the picture he posted on his wall in honor of Tabitha's birthday of her in a bonnet being held aloft a la baby Simba by a grinning chubby faced toddler Blaine. Kurt and Tabitha were basically kindred spirits (Kurt had decided the first time he met her) and the bonnet was very stylish. Also the look on poor Tabitha's face promised that Blaine's arm was about to become her new scratching post.

Clearly things were worse than he thought. It wasn't like he was expecting his boyfriend to comment on the picture or anything, but it had gotten 57 likes, including one from Karofsky and every in-person conversation they had ever had ended in threats.

He just didn't get it, he thought glumly on his fourth trail ride in 3 days. Kurt was blowing this up to truly Rachel-esque proportions. He understood, had even expected, the initial anger. But the second fight was a complete surprise.

The trail flattened out and he urged Toby into a trot, unable to keep the smile from his face as their speed increased. It had become too easy over the years for him to forget exactly how amazing this was. For a while, even making it out here with regularity had been difficult and when he did there was never enough time for this.

At the barn he was a bit of an oddity because he wasn't an equestrian by nature; it was more a by-product of his interest in polo. Some of his friends, like Marguerite, would probably die if they went more than a week without a ride. It made him feel guilty sometimes, although he knew Toby was always well-looked after, that he wasn't as obsessively dedicated as everyone around him. There were weeks when Toby wasn't even in the top 5 of his list of priorities.

Not this week, though. His original plan had been to split his free time evenly between fencing and time at the barn. That plan had quickly been scrapped when he proved too distracted to concentrate on anything. Coach Bartlett had pulled him aside after he almost lost to Wyatt, who had held a blade in his hand for the first time less than 6 months ago.

"God damn, Anderson," he had said. "The open is a week away and if you keep fencing like this you're going to hurt yourself before you even get to compete again. What was that last lunge? You're ankle hasn't rolled like that since you were this tall," he held his hand to just above knee height, which Blaine thought was a little unfair. Granted, he had always been a bit short for his age, but he was pretty sure he was taller than when he was 6. "Take a couple days off, kiddo. Keep up with your cardio and work on your lunges if you need to be doing something, but you're not allowed back on that strip until you've got your head screwed back on."

So he relocated his one man pity party to the barn where low hanging branches were pretty much the biggest threat (and piles of manure, he guessed, but that was a very different danger). The thing about pity parties, however, was that they were great for the first 10 minutes, maybe 20 if things were really bad. They kind of lost their charm after that and his was entering its 75th hour.

"You've been getting so spoiled, Tobs" he whispered, hands briefly tangling in the chestnut mane. "Don't be getting too used to it. I do have a life outside of you." Toby snorted, not bothering to hide his scepticism of this claim. "You're right, boy. I really am pathetic."

Longingly he thought of how much further this particular trail continued before looping back around. He'd only ridden all of it once, but he knew they could easily be out for another two hours. The one benefit of living in Nowhere, USA was miles and miles (and mile, and miles, and _miles_) of nothing and a general disregard for specific property lines. He and Marguerite used to joke that they could probably make it all the way to Indiana.

Not today though, he sighed, turning them around. Love Kurt as he did, that boy was endlessly stubborn. If Blaine waited on him they'd probably be retired before this got resolved. Sorry wasn't really a word in his vocabulary. But it was in Blaine's and he was determined to make this okay again. As he rode back a plan began to form, but he'd need help.

**SOS. Emergency quartet (why don't we have an awesome name guys? We need an awesome name) meeting. Get to mine ASAP. Richard be on Skype. THIS IS IMPORTANT. **

He frantically texted as he headed back to his car. He was halfway home before his phone buzzed in response.

**Wes just picked me up. We'll be there in 2 hours. He wants you to know this better be VERY IMPORTANT because he had a 'hot' date tonight. (I saw her, she was only a 7.)**

At the next light he grabbed his phone and typed back

**Tell him if your helpful I'll give him Marguerite's number. **

It was something Wes had been after nearly as long as they'd known each other. If that wasn't motivation, he didn't know what was.

**He is now driving significantly over the legal limit. If we die because of this I will haunt you for the rest of your life. Richard says he'll diligently be waiting by his computer.**

He pulled into his driveway and debated just calling Richard as soon as he got to his computer. But Wes and David would probably never forgive him, even if they were an integral part of step 2 and Richard wasn't. Besides, he really needed to shower. He smelt like horse and while some people probably found that appealing Kurt was not one of them and this was his Big Romantic Gesture, so everything had to be perfect.

He had just settled on the Perfect Outfit when the doorbell rang. He struggled into his pants as the sound of thundering footsteps filled the house. Sure, they had all seen each other naked more times than they could count. But there was a time and a place.

"Is she here?" Wes asked, bursting through the door, without knocking. As usual. It was the one flaw in his otherwise impeccable manners.

"He said he would give you her number, not that she'd be naked and waiting on his bed." David followed behind at a more leisurely place. "Sorry about him. Can't take him anywhere. Doctor says neutering is the only option at this point. We've an appointment set up for Tuesday," he stage whispered.

"Not funny, David. Not funny at all."

"You guys didn't break down my front door, did you?" He was pretty sure the door had been locked when he left this morning.

Wes batted his eyes in the closest approximation to innocence that he could get. "Don't be ridiculous. Your mother let us in. Lovely, obliging woman."

"Oh." Blaine hadn't even known she was home; she usually wasn't before 5 on Sundays. She 'did the rounds' after church, visiting various friends and family members.

"I always feel like I should be offended when she eyes us like that," David said thoughtfully. "But then I recall the incident. With the table."

"And the lamps?" Wes asked.

"Ooh, I wasn't thinking of that one. I was thinking of the one with the clock."

"Was that the same night as the fire?"

"No. I think it was the same week we flooded the bathroom, though."

"This is why this is the only room you're allowed in," Blaine said with a laugh. "I think I'm lucky to even have a house."

"My house has seen much worse," David protested.

"True, but that was a group effort of all the Warblers."

"Yes, but-" David's argument was cut off by the shrill ringing of Blaine's computer.

"I knew you guys we're already there!" Richard was yelling as soon as the call connected. "Just because my parents are smart enough to not live in Ohio doesn't mean I can be excluded from these things. That's intelligence based discrimination."

"Keep your pants on. We just got here, even with Wes' lunatic driving."

"So what's the emergency? This better not be like that time you couldn't decide which tie to wear on your date with whose-his-face. Jeremy?"

"Jeremiah. I can't believe you guys told him that." Blaine muttered, blushing. "And it was my first date. I was nervous."

"You were wearing your uniform. The ties were all the same! So is it like that?" Wes narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

"No! It's not. It's actually important. It's about Kurt. We're kind of fighting. We haven't talked in days."

"Is that why he didn't like the Tabitha picture? I told you that was weird, Wes. That picture was adorable."

"Yeah, I guess." He sighed. "You know how he's off to New York in the fall?" They all nodded raptly, looking every inch the school boys they were when they met. "Well since he won't be in Lima next year, I just figured there wasn't really much point in me being here either. I mean McKinley is, well honestly, its crap."

"You didn't…" Richard started.

"So I transferred back to Dalton," he continued on determinedly.

"You what? Why didn't you tell us?"

"I didn't tell anyone, except my parents. And Kurt. I wanted it to be a surprise. And this really isn't the point right now, guys. So just hush until I'm done. Then once we sort this out you can yell at me or whatever."

"Oh no, buttercup. What did he do?"

Blaine explained the situation and then he explained his solution. One by one they grinned.

"Can you put it on hold for like 24 hours? I want to be there," Richard whined. "This is the cutest damn thing I've ever heard."

"Seriously. If you tried to woo old Dicky here half as hard he probably would have at least tossed you a pity fuck," Wes smirked.

"Hey!" Richard shouted, offended. "He's almost 4 years younger than me and the first time I saw him he had so many bandages on him he was practically a mummy. Fucking of any kind was not in the cards."

"Guys," Blaine moaned burying his face in his hands. He always forgot that his friends were about 70% less helpful than he wanted them to be and 90% more mortifying.

David, who was always less interested in harassing him than the others, was looking thoughtful. "It's a great idea. It'll take a couple hours to organize. Including the fact that nothing is happening on an empty stomach, we should be good to go by 9? Maybe 9.30. If we get to work now. And order Chinese."

"One thing, though," Wes interrupted. "It's good, Blainers. But not perfect. We need more nostalgia. But we don't want it to be too obvious. There's nothing romantic about a gigantic banner and neon lights. Also I want my own order of dumplings. Last time we got them to share someone," he glared at David, "ate them all."

"I have it," Richard proclaimed, not at all sulking about missing out on Chinese food and wooing. "Your first not-a-date-because-you-were-too-busy-mooning-over-Jeremy, what did you do?"

"Jeremiah," he corrected with an exasperated sigh. "Umm… we went to a show?"

"Nope, before that."

He struggled to think back before then, not really sure what Richard was getting at. They had only just met so there weren't too many options. "I mean after I went to confront Karofsky with him we got lunch then went back to his house and watched a movie."

"And what movie was that?" Richard prompted.

"But that wasn't a date! Or even a not-a-date."

"Was he already smitten with you?"

"Yes," Wes and David chorused together.

"Then it was a not-a-date. And on this not-a-date that you sent me a four page e-mail on, do you remember the movie?"

"Four pages, Blaine? And you said it wasn't love."

He vaguely remembered them bonding over a mutual love of Hugh Grant. Or maybe it was Colin Firth. No wait it was both and Liam Neeson's voice. He groaned. "Love Actually."

"And you said you weren't gay."

"I never said I wasn't gay."

"We all know where this is going, then?" Richard asked loudly, not liking being ignored.

"Yes," they agreed dutifully.

"So get that Chinese food ordered and let's get to work."

At 9.40 they were ready and by 9.45 they were piling into Blaine's car. They debated taking separate cars because, if everything went well, Blaine would be coming back later. But knowing Burt it wouldn't be that much later and knowing Wes they would have just ended up circling the block until Blaine left (or the neighbors called the police) anyways.

Richard was on the phone and Wes was offering a running commentary. ("We are now backing out of the driveway. We have turned left at the stop sign. The car in front of us is going 5 miles under the speed limit. Blaine is now glaring at me.")

"We'll call you back when we get there," Blaine said, yanking the phone from Wes' hands and ending the call without ever taking his eyes off the road.

Eventually they pulled up to the Hummel-Hudson house and Blaine was pretty sure he was about to have a heart attack because this was a colossally stupid idea. But there was no going back now because Wes and David knew where Kurt lived now and if he chickened out they'd just come back and do it without him (or with a giant cardboard cut out of him) which would be weird. Carefully, he parked across the street, taking a deep breath before getting out of the car.

(Mostly) silently, they snuck around the side of the house stopping outside Kurt's window. Wes had Richard back on the phone and David was pressing a bunch of pebbles into Blaine's sweating hands and this was crazy.

"If you don't, I will," We threatened, noting his hesitation.

He took careful aim and lobbed a pebble at the window, waited a couple seconds then threw another. After a minute Wes and David joined in.

"Maybe he isn't there?"

"His light is on, so he's probably at least home. He could be in the shower or something." It was after 10 though, which was a little late for Kurt to be showering.

"So we're just going to stand here all night waiting for him to get back?"

Blaine flapped his hand to quiet them down, reaching into his pocket to pull out his phone. He spent a moment debating before scrolling to Carole Hummel (cell) and pressing call.

"Blaine?" Carole answered after the fourth ring, sounding surprised. "Everything okay sweetie?"

"Oh yeah. Everything's fine. I didn't mean to worry you, Carole," he reassured her. Behind him Wes was filling Richard in on this latest development in a not-so-hushed whisper. "I was wondering if Kurt was home? I, uhh, was kind of hoping to talk to him."

"He's here. Up in his room. He's been locked away up there since he got back from brunch with the girls. His father is in Washington. I won't say anything if you want to stop by for a little bit." She paused for a second. "Is everything okay with you two? Burt said you had a fight at the shop and you haven't been around since."

"Just going through a little rough patch," he laughed lightly. "Actually I'm outside the house right now. Trying to make a Big Romantic Gesture, but he seems to be ignoring it. Maybe he's fallen asleep?"

"What do you have planned, Blaine Anderson?" She asked. There was the sound of movement on the other end, like someone standing up and walking and oh god she was coming to the window.

"Nothing?" He said, smiling meekly and waving at her.

"And who are those charming boys standing with you?"

"Wes and David? They went to Dalton." He elbowed them and they waved too, Wes frantically whispering "We've been caught! We've been caught!"

"I'll go check on Kurt. He's been blasting the same 10 songs all evening. Just give me a second." She walked away from the window and placed her phone down on the coffee table.

They stood there in tense silence waiting for her to come back.

"What's happening?" Richard yelled.

"Shh," Wes hissed. "We're waiting."

What felt like hours, but was actually 5 minutes, later Carole was picking up her phone again. "Well I got him to turn the music off. I had to pull the stepmother card. This better be good, because he is in a mood."

"Thanks, Carole. I'll let you know it goes."

"Good luck, sweetie," she said before hanging up.

"Take two?" He threw another stone at the window and another and a few more just for good measure.

Suddenly the window was being yanked open and Kurt's angry voice was yelling down, "Rachel Barbara Berry, if that's you I swear to- Blaine?"

Wes and David were very specifically not smiling because this was Serious Business. "Do, do, do, do, dooo," they started singing.

"David? Wes? What the?"

Blaine took a deep breath, waiting for David's_ oooooh_ to end before he opened his mouth.  
_"I may not always love you_  
_But long as there are stars above you_  
_You never need to doubt it,_  
_I'll make you so sure about it._  
_God only knows what I'd be without you" _he sang.

Kurt was trying his hardest to look stern and disapproving because it was after 10 on a Sunday night and his neighbors were probably very unamused right now. It was a losing battle, though, and by the time Blaine was finishing his last "_God only knows what I'd be without you," _he was full on laughing.

"Get inside, you lunatics," he giggled. "Before you all get arrested." He disappeared from the window, presumably to meet them at the door.

"Well have fun, Blaineykins. Call us when you're ready to come home." David clapped him on the back.

"But not too late, you hear. Your mother and I have work in the morning." Wes pretended to wipe tears from his eyes.

"Guys? Stop ignoring me," shouted Wes' phone.

"Hush. We're sending our baby off to get laid."

"Wait, if you're the father and David's the mother, who does that make me?"

"The weird pedophilic grandfather?" David suggested innocently.

"It was once. I was drunk. He was legal."

"In Albania, maybe."

"Blaine?" Their bickering was interrupted by Kurt's voice calling from his door.

"I'll see you guys later," Blaine turned and headed towards the house.

"But no, really. Not too late," Wes shouted after him. "We all have work in the morning. Some of us in Columbus." They waved at Blaine's retreating back before grinning and yelling, simultaneously, "Have good sex! And don't forget a condom!"

Blaine hung his head. "I don't know why I still associate with them," he apologized hastily shutting the door behind him. He hadn't even let go of the doorknob before Kurt's hand was wrapping around his wrist, tugging him upstairs.

"Blaine's here," he called as a general announcement. "We'll be in my room."

"As long as he's gone by midnight. And don't lock the door," Carole called back.

"Hi, Blaine!" Finn shouted enthusiastically from somewhere.

"Hey, Finn, Hi, Carole," he returned. Then Kurt's door was shutting behind them and Kurt was shyly swinging their joined hands back and forth.

"Hey," Blaine whispered.

"You are crazy."

"I've been told."

"You remembered." Blaine shrugged, like he wasn't the most perfect person to ever be anyone's boyfriend ever. "I was head over heels for you, even then."

"Kurt," he breathed.

"I love you."

"I love you too." They smiled at each other. It wasn't an apology, but it kind of felt like one. Maybe that could be enough.

"Do you want to sit down?" Kurt asked, still not letting go of his hand. "I can clear off some space," he gestured around the room and Blaine actually looked at it for the first time since he got there.

It was like the most colorful bomb in the world exploded in the middle of the room. There was an area, probably 2 feet in diameter, that was clear and everywhere else was covered in fabric or neon post-it notes. He had gotten used to the post-its because they'd been up since April, although he had long since stopped trying to keep track of the system as it seemed to chance on a daily basis. The clothes were a new addition to the pandemonium, he thought as he tripped over a pile of shoes on his way to the bed.

"Sorry. I panicked a little bit last week," grinned Kurt apologetically. Gingerly Blaine pushed aside the pile of scarves that had taken over the bed, trying to make a place for himself.

"Actually, I've been freaking out since we got the apartment," he admitted. Blaine nodded in understanding; he had been with Kurt when the lease came in, had used his new found legal expertise to help read it over, and had held his hand while he signed it.

"The apartment seemed nice." There had been pictures, organized into a slideshow by Rachel with the appropriate music for each room. Viewing it was quiet the experience; there had been a lot of clipart confetti and stars. Their parents were helping to cover the costs, so it was a little nicer than the average New York student apartment. The current occupants hadn't done much to the place but there was definite potential there.

Kurt's eye lit up. "Yeah. I'm really excited about it. The landlord e-mailed us yesterday to tell us we're getting new cabinets in the kitchen." He went back to his shoe pile, kicking through it. "Want to sort through the scarves for me? I can't make all these decisions by myself. I'm aiming to only bring 25, 30 tops. Shoes will be the real problem though. Rachel's banned me from bringing more than her."

"That'll only limit you to about 300." Fights with Kurt were odd because they sort of just stopped and he went on acting like nothing had ever happened. Starting to shift through the nearest pile, he pulled out a particularly horrible orange and blue plaid and one that was covered in tropical fish. He put them both in the discard pile, trying to hide his look of disgust.

"Christmas present from Finn's grandmother," he repressed a shudder. "That whole family is hopeless when it comes to fashion."

A comfortable silence enveloped the room as they made their way through Kurt's wardrobe. He couldn't help but feel a little pleased that he was being allowed to do this, even though he knew Kurt would go through the piles later. Probably another 10 times. It was kind of adorable that Kurt was spending so much time on packing. (A little too much, in his opinion. Five months seemed a tad on the excessive side.)

"You probably think I'm insane. I'm sure you'll start packing for Dalton 24 hours before you leave."

"It'll probably be 48," he agreed, trying not to look too happy at Kurt's casual mention of his plans for next year. "But I have a lot less stuff to pack. And three years of practice packing it." He hadn't had much of choice in regards to how leisurely his packing was the first time. Days after being released from the hospital he was moving into the dorms. Now, it was just habit.

Kurt stared pensively at a black boot, tossing it back and forth between his hands. "I can't help but overreact to everything." He pointedly glanced at Blaine. "It's just that, nothing is working out the way I pictured it. I'm still going to New York with Rachel. But everything else is different. It doesn't feel real yet."

"What's going to make it real?"

"I don't know. Decorating the apartment, maybe?"

"I should have known," Blaine said with a fond grin at his boyfriend.

"In the past two weeks, I think I've spent about 10 billion hours looking for stuff online. Rachel and I aren't even sure how we're going to manage decorating. We can't move in until 2 days before her orientation. It's going to be a disaster."

"I'm surprised you guys haven't already started buying things," he admitted.

"We'd never be able to get it to New York. Even with three cars, I'm not sure how we're going to get everything we already own out there, plus eight people."

"U-haul? It'll be a little more expensive, but if it would make you feel better it might be worth it."

"I'm not sure any of us are up to navigating New York traffic with a U-Haul. Maybe Finn, but that's because he doesn't know any better. But I guess it's a possibility."

"Your dad has a long weekend coming up next weekend, right?" Kurt nodded in affirmation.

"You guys could go out to New York, buy everything there. Then you wouldn't have to worry about moving it."

"And store it where, Blaine? There are people living in our apartment now. I know they're style is a bit Spartan, but I don't think they'd appreciate us just dropping off shower curtains and end tables."

"You could store things at my apartment. Not like I've never stolen the key before." He didn't know why he hadn't thought of it earlier, because it was the obvious solution. "It'll probably be a little far from yours, but between the three cars we should be able to make it work."

"Wait a minute," Kurt held up his hands. "Your parents have an apartment in New York?"

"No," Blaine frowned a little. "Cooper and I do. Well, kind of. It's in our name, but according to the will we aren't allowed to live there until I graduate high school. My dad's holding it for now. Coop wasn't very happy at first, but he never really liked New York anyways. You didn't know?"

"Not so much. I think that's the type of thing I would remember."

"I thought I told you. That weekend the three of us went there last summer? I'm sure I must have mentioned it."

"Oh," Kurt's eyes widened, because that was familiar. He remembered being told they were sneaking off for the weekend to go to the city. "I guess I just assumed it was Wes'."

Feeling like the biggest asshole ever, Blaine stared miserably at the pile of scarves in front of him. They had just stopped fighting less than an hour ago and he really wasn't up for another one. "I really thought I told you. I wasn't trying to keep it from you or anything."

Kurt pushed him (and the scarf pile) over, before wrapping himself around Blaine and pressing a kiss to his temple. "No, I know," clearly as reluctant to start another argument. "I'll ask Dad when he calls tomorrow. He might want a quiet weekend at home. But Rach and I could always go alone, or with her dads. You have that tournament in Springfield next weekend?"

"Yeah." His hand was now unconsciously tracing patterns on Kurt's thigh. "First one in three years."

Kurt h'mmed in agreement, pulling them down so they were awkwardly lying atop a mound of fabric, which would be wrinkled but they were mostly on the discard pile and a couple wrinkled scarves were totally worth this. "So, any other homes I can look forward to inheriting one day?"

"Just the castle in Scotland." He curled inward as Kurt playfully pinched his side. "I don't own anything else. My father and my uncles and aunt own a ski cabin in British Columbia. We went all the time when we were kids but we haven't been," _since I came out_, his head supplied, "in a couple years," he said instead. "And my parents and some of their friends own a small villa in Sicily that they rent out most of the year."

"You are something else, Blaine Warbler," Kurt said between kisses. "And I'm going to warn you now; I'm only in this relationship for the money. I already have a team of hit men ready to kill you as soon as we are married."

"Traditionally, this is something you wouldn't tell me." Blaine moaned as Kurt's hands wandered lower.

"Screw tradition. Besides, I'm fairly positive you won't be going anywhere."

"A-and why's that?" Blaine shuddered. "Oh," he gasped.

Kurt smirked. "Exactly."

* * *

**I swear on my LotR and Harry Potter collections that Sebastian will be back in the next chapter.**

**3 to all of my awesome reviewers. I love your novels so much and they're really helping to shape the story. Keep 'em coming. :-)**

**Song in this chapter is God Only Knows by the Beach Boys.**


	6. Chapter 5

*******Those of you who don't normally read the author's note, might want to for this one, because I apparently miss fencing more than I thought I did, so here's a quick sabre fencing reference.  
Here's a video of a sabre bout from the 2008 Olympics, to give you some idea what it looks like. **** watch?v=hTbqhbaUkTc&feature=relmfu ****  
The fencing uniform consists of a glove, a mask, a jacket, a lamé, and an underarm protector. You can't see the underarm protector when you're in full uniform, but directors get really cranky when you aren't wearing them. A lamé is the shiny jacket.  
sabre-** one of three fencing weapons, the other 2 being foil and epee. Sabre is the only slashing weapon and it's very fast paced.

**Bagel-** when the bout ends with a score of 5-0.

**Bout committee**- the people who organize the tournament and are, theoretically, in charge of making sure it runs smoothly.

**Strip**- the fencing area. It's approximately 14mx2m. Fencers have to remain on the strip during their bout.

**En garde line**- lines about 4 meters apart from each other on the strip where fencers return following each touch.

**Bout-** a single match between two fencers.

**Touch**- basically another word for point.

**Off target**- in sabre you can only get a touch if you are on target. Target in sabre is the torso, arms, and mask area.

**D.E's-** direct elimination

**Hopefully that should be enough to get you through the chapter. If not, I apologize. And just sit back and do what Sebastian would do, enjoy the image of Blaine in tight, white, fencing knickers.**

* * *

It wasn't nerves that he was feeling, exactly. His expectations for this specific tournament were pretty low. He hadn't competed in almost three years now and that was a pretty long time to be out of the loop. His lessons had been going well, and he had been holding his own against other members of the club but Ross, who he had always been pretty equal with in the past, was still continuously beating him 3-5 and Holly, whom he had consistently bageled only a year ago ended their last bout at 5-4.

But the competition atmosphere was what he thrived on, whether it was singing or fencing. He didn't get anxious like so many of the people around him. He knew what he was capable of and he refused to let the little things phase him. That, at least, would give him a leg up on some of his opponents.

As he warmed up, he made sure to keep an extra close eye on the boys he didn't know. He already had identified several new guys whose egos looking overwhelming large but whose blade work was sloppy. A luxury they might be able to afford because their feet were fast and they were tall. Thanks to boxing, though, he was pretty sure he was faster. He could lure them into a false sense of security by giving up the first touch. He could probably get the next two with them thinking it was just luck. Bu the time they realized it wasn't, they'd panic and just lash out. Relatively easy wins, if they didn't figure out what he was doing and if he only let them get one or two touches it could salvage his indicator. Hopefully.

So he had his game plan, now all he had to do was wait for the bout committee to get their act together so he could implement it. He often thought the biggest challenge in fencing wasn't learning how, or the long days, but knowing how to deal with the hurry up and wait of it all.

Several of the boys were sitting around talking and a lot of them were still drilling. Blaine was reluctant to do either, if he sat down now he'd cool down by the time they finally started, but if he kept drilling he was going to be exhausted by the end of the day.

Nodding at Ross, he pulled off his mask. "We probably have another 20 minutes before we start. I'm going to go for a light jog outside, maybe stretch some more."

"Sounds good, but don't overexert yourself, Anderson. It would be tragic if your triumphant return was marred by injury."

"Yes, mother," he mocked, adding an over-flourished bow.

"And while you're off being Mr. Fit," Ross continued, ignoring his antics, "I'm going to go talk to Wyatt." This was Wyatt's first tournament ever and he looked like he was going to be sick, or pass out. Possibly both.

Blaine remembered his first tournament; he must have been seven. He was thrilled because, school aside, he had never seen so many kids all in one place and they could all be his friends and wouldn't that be fantastic? One of the girls from his club (Rosalynn, he thought her name was, but couldn't remember) had very much not shared his enthusiasm. She had gotten onto the strip for her first bout and before the director even called 'fence' she had thrown up. Most unfortunately she didn't have time to take her mask off. Nobody had been surprised when they never saw her again.

With that unhappy and mildly scarring thought in his head, he peeled of his lamé and jacket, debating whether or not to also remove his underarm protector. He kind of looked stupid wearing it, but it would probably be more hassle than it was worth to take it off. In the end he kept it on, Ross was normally pretty good about getting him on time, but he could also get distracted really easily and it was just one less thing he'd have to worry about.

He took off out of the building. His pace was set somewhere between a speed walk and a proper jog, more an effort to keep his blood pumping and his muscles loose than anything else. Having circled the building once, he did two laps of stairs before slowing down to stretch. He had just sunk down into a deep lunge when a voice behind him purred,

"Why, hello there."

Normally fencing knickers made people burst into uncontrollable laughter; it figured there was one weirdo out there who thought they were hot. (A voice in the back of his head that sounded alarmingly like Santana whispered that the fact he kept forgetting to buy new knickers and these were a little on the small side was probably a contributing factor.) He sighed, "I'm flattered, but also in a happy and committed relationship."

"Blaine?" The voice lost its husky quality and it took him less than a second to place it.

"Sebastian," he groaned, whirling around. "What are you doing here?"

"I live here. Or nearby. I try and come into the city to run at least once a week. Makes for a nice change of scenery." He sounded like he couldn't decide whether to be defensive or apologetic so he settled on condescending.

With a twang of guilt, Blaine realized that he had never known where Sebastian lived. At a boarding school it wasn't inexcusable, but he always tried to at least know what state they called home. Now that he thought about it, he didn't know why Sebastian was at Dalton. He couldn't remember, though, whether it was because he had never asked or because Sebastian had never answered.

They stared at each other in a deeply uncomfortable silence. Blaine could practically hear Sebastian thinking something inappropriate about his ass but was, for once, resisting the urge to say it. It made it more awkward, because it meant that Blaine wasn't the only one who didn't know where they stood. He had (almost completely) forgiven the other Warbler after the party at the start of the summer but, now that he thought about it, it seemed unlikely that Sebastian even remembered they had talked.

"So… how's your summer going?" He asked, because manners had been ingrained into him since birth.

Sebastian eyed him warily. "Fine. And yours?"

"Good. Really good. I've been working at a law firm, spending lots of time with Kurt. And I'm about to fence in my first tournament in years," he babbled. "Actually we were due to start half an hour ago, so I should probably-"

"Anderson!" Ross voice boomed from behind him. Blaine jumped. "They're making movement at the table. I think we're going to be stripped soon, should probably head back inside." He glared critically at Sebastian and Blaine hoped he didn't take it personally; he tended to be a tad over protective.

"Ross, this is Sebastian. Sebastian, this is Ross. Sebastian goes to Dalton," he explained, sighing in relief when the two boys shook hands.

"Well any friend of Blaine's is a friend of mine. Are you coming to watch?"

If it wasn't for the fact he was feeling the same way, Blaine would have found the look of alarmed confusion Sebastian was shooting at him hilarious. "I couldn't. I don't know the first thing about fencing. I'd hate to be a burden."

It was the wrong thing to say. And Blaine did actually laugh at the look of alarm on Sebastian's face when Ross slung his arm around his shoulders and began steering him inside, walking at a brisk pace so they wouldn't be late. "Don't be ridiculous. I'd be more than happy to explain the ropes to you. As would Blaine I'm sure. Isn't that right, Anderson?" He called behind him. Blaine pretended not to hear him.

He partially listened as Ross waxed poetic about this history of fencing as he pulled on his discarded jacket and lamé. He checked to make sure he had extra body cords and that his blades looked okay before looking expectantly at his friend, knowing he would know their respective strip assignments.

"13 and 14," he said promptly. "Luckily Sebastian won't have to chose between the two of us." With a wink he set off towards strip 14.

Blaine shook his head, "Incorrigible." Ross was as straight as they came, but you couldn't tell by the way he flirted. With everything. Even a goat once, but that had been on a dare.

"I can go, if you'd prefer," Sebastian offered as they trailed after Ross.

"It's fine." Unbeknownst to the other boy, they'd be singing together in the upcoming year. Now seemed as good a time as any to get past their awkwardness with each other. "Besides, Ross would be devastated if he lost out on the opportunity to teach you all about fencing. I almost pity you. That boy can talk."

Having Sebastian there actually turned out to be a lot more pleasant than he had originally thought it would. Unlike everyone else he had ever met, he seemed genuinely interested in what Ross told him between his bouts. He caught on quickly to the basics, including right of way, which most people struggled with. He even offered some useful advice.

"You're thinking too much and it's slowing down your feet," he commented after Blaine almost dropped his 3rd to last bout. His instinct was to protest; before today Sebastian had probably never even seen people fence, but the concentration he was paying to the current fencers brought him up short. Sebastian might not know fencing, but he did know sports. So he took his advice. It worked.

No one was more surprised than he was when he made it to . He knew he had no hope of medalling, but he thought he could at least manage a respectable finish.

He had just gotten back from filling up his water bottle when Sebastian sidled up to him.

"You have Ortiz next, right?" He asked quietly. Blaine nodded tightly. He and Ortiz had been rivals ever since Blaine beat him when they were 8. "He was in Ross' pool and I've been watching him. There's something wrong with his left leg, he hasn't been retreating much all day. My guess is he can't, or he can't do it very quickly. If you fly at him, right from the start he'll have to concentrate on that and not on what his sword is doing. He doesn't seem like a very good sport, combined with the way he's been looking at you all day? Should be enough to throw him off, could be what you need to win."

Blaine took a moment to consider this. It sounded like good advice, good enough at least that he didn't bother to comment on the fact that no one said sword. It was dirtier than he normally liked to fence, but if he was ever going to be a little underhanded with anyone it would be Ortiz. But would the speed be something Ortiz suspected?

"You've been fast all day, but not as fast you could be," Sebastian said, like he was reading Blaine's thoughts. "And you've waxed and waned enough that, even if he was watching closely, he'd think that was your max speed. He doesn't look very smart either, so he'll probably think that you've been trying your hardest all day, not bothering to conserve your energy because you had so much to prove, because that's what he'd do. He won't be expecting it."

Blinking, Blaine said, "Sabre is not your weapon. You think too much."

With a grin Sebastian responded, "Can't hurt to try it. You already made it further than you thought you would. Win this and you'll be top 12. But only if you're sure you can start first," he warned, finally tearing his gaze away from the strip.

"Sir, yes, sir," Blaine said, snapping off a salute but he made sure to smile broad enough for Sebastian to know he appreciated it.

"Up now- Nash and Massago. On deck- Ortiz and Anderson," the director called out. Immediately Blaine's eyes fell closed and he took a deep breath. He stayed like that until he was called up to the strip, where he hooked up with shaky hands. Desperately, he was trying not to notice exactly how much Ortiz had grown and how much he hadn't.

When the director called 'ready' he knew he had lost his advantage, he was barely able to manage a decent parry and he wasn't at all surprised when Ortiz's next attack landed.

"Get it together, Anderson," he muttered under his breath as he got back on the en garde line. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Sebastian angrily muttering 'stop thinking,' over and over again. He grinned and stopped thinking.

This time he was ready and as soon as the director called 'fence' he was flying off his line, directly towards Ortiz who hadn't been expecting it and was hastily trying to retreat. But Sebastian was right and he was doing it unsteadily and clearly concentrating on retreating leaving his right side dangerously open. Seeing the opening Blaine advance lunged at his opponent, recovering almost as quickly- _just in case, just in case_, his heart pounded. But it didn't matter, because the director was raising her left arm, indicating that Blaine had gotten the touch.

Sebastian had been right about Ortiz's reaction too. He might not have been expecting to end this with a bagel, but he certainly hadn't planned on giving up a touch so easily. But with every subsequent touch Blaine got, he became a little more careless- prepping and lunging just a millisecond too early.

At 4-4 they offered each other the customary salute, both breathing heavily. Ortiz attacked first and Blaine was forced to counter attack before retreating down the strip, needing a second to gather himself. For a few seconds they engaged each other, Blaine dangerously close to the end of the strip. Ortiz lashed out, blade too low and smacking across his thigh. He would have a welt, if not a vicious bruise there but it was worth it because the thigh was off target and it gave him another chance.

A chance that was almost squandered when Ortiz came charging at him, trapped at the end of the strip he parried desperately as Ortiz collided with him. Once again the bout was halted, this time though the ref was pulling out a yellow card as Ortiz apologized profusely. It was a risky maneuver. If the director had been more experienced she would have seen through his apologies to his smirking face and that would have severe consequences.

It was a move done purely to piss Blaine off and it might have worked, if Coach Bartlett wasn't there because he was angry enough for the both of them. As he furiously yelled at the director Blaine chanced a glance over at Sebastian, hoping he wouldn't think of this as an invitation to throw in his two cents. Blaine had watched football with him and he had quite an impressive vocabulary when it came to poorly made calls and, while that was great in front of your television or even on the lacrosse field it could get you thrown out of the building at a fencing tournament.

But Sebastian was completely ignoring the heated exchange happening next to him. Instead his gaze was flickering between Blaine and Ortiz and was mouthing something. Blaine squinted, trying to make it out. It ended it a y or an ie, but beyond that he had nothing. Sebastian rolled his head at Blaine's obvious confusion. With a sigh and a slight shoulder shift so he was facing away from the director he pointed over at Ortiz and then mimicked giving a blow job.

Either he wanted Blaine to finish this so he could haul his enemy off to the bathroom and fuck him, which would have been a really helpful tactic about twenty minutes ago, or he was actually trying to tell Blaine something useful. He watched carefully as Sebastian as he mouthed the word again, this time catching the word _cocky_.

Quickly, he filed away the image of Sebastian's hollowed cheeks and the twisting motion of his hands, which were really unnecessary, because Coach Bartlett seemed to finally be running out a steam. Given how helpful Sebastian had been throughout the day, he also decided to ignore the possibility of him just laying out his conquest plans.

It was more useful information than Sebastian knew, because when Ortiz got cocky he let his hand drop. He breathed deeply as he got back en garde, taking note of the fact that Ortiz' hand was, in fact, lower than it should be.

Then Ortiz was coming at him, lunging but falling just short and he purposefully made his retreat slower than it should be, watching as his hand dropped even further. He waited until he had right of way again and shot forward, thrusting out his arm and feeling the satisfactory reverberations of his blade solidly landing on Ortiz' mask.

He didn't even bother trying to stifle his whoop of victory as Ortiz tore off his mask and glared. He did, however, manage to tone his beam down to a maniac grin as they saluted and shook hands. But then Ross was next to him, trying to unhook him and hug him and pull him off the strip all at the same time and looking so proud and Sebastian was beside him, clapping a hand on Blaine's back and smirking in such a smug manner because his advice had been helpful.

If Blaine wasn't quite able to look him in the eyes it was because the lighting in this place was awful and Sebastian just happened to be standing in a spot where he was practically blinded if he looked up like that. It had nothing, whatsoever, to do with the fact that all he could do was picture him making those lewd gestures and he certainly wasn't substituting in a body for what had only been air. And if the thought briefly crossed his mind, it didn't mean anything. He was a 17 year old boy who hadn't been having nearly as much sex as he wanted.

"Kurt," he blurted out. "I need to call Kurt." He fumbled through his stuff, searching for his phone, disregarding the questioning look Sebastian was giving him and Ross' lecture that he didn't have time to be calling anyone, much less his long winded boyfriend. Grabbing his phone, he walked a few paces away, making sure to stay near enough that he could hear his name being called but getting far enough away that he had some semblance of privacy.

"Hey baby, it's me." He laughed a little self-consciously, because his name would show up on Kurt's phone and even if it didn't who else would be calling him baby? "Sorry I missed your call this morning; things have been crazy since we got here. We're not done fencing yet, but I just wanted to call and say hi and that I hope you're enjoying your shopping spree. And that my apartment is treating you well. Hopefully I'll talk to you before I go to bed tonight. If not I'll see you tomorrow. We're leaving early, so we should be home by dinner. Umm, call me back if you have time? Love you."

It wasn't the most eloquent voicemail he had ever left, but it wasn't the worst either. Kurt would probably think it was adorable and would spend at least an hour cooing over it. Feeling only mildly embarrassed about it, he turned back to the strip just as it was announced he was on deck.

"Where's Sebastian?" He asked Ross, looking around like he might spot Sebastian somewhere in the crowd.

"H'mm? Oh, he took off," Ross replied distractedly. "Something about a dinner he had to get to. Said he'd talk to you later."

"Oh." Blaine grabbed his arm and pulled it across his body in a stretch, trying not to feel a disappointed.

Almost four hours later they were in their hotel room, getting ready for dinner when Blaine's phone buzzed. He dove across the bed to get it, hoping it was from Kurt. Instead it was a text message from an unfamiliar number. Warily he clicked on it.

**Sorry for disappearing. Hadn't realized how late it was.** As he read the message another one came through.

**Only just made it to Chicago. The partner is not happy with my tardiness. **Attached was a picture of a scowling woman in a periwinkle blue sleeveless gown.

**You're in Chicago? **Blaine typed out.

**Yeah. Gala for The Foundation. Good thing I had my tux in the car. How'd you guys finish? Tried looking it up online, but nothing's been posted.**

He smiled a little, because even though Sebastian had just driven over 3 hours and was now at what was clearly a very important event, he still took the time out to try and look up how they did. **Good. I came in 11****th****. Ross finished 2****nd****.**

**Congrats to both of you. Not bad for your reintroduction. :-) I bet you're surprised you didn't finish last.**

He was just about to reply that he most certainly didn't expect to be last (30th, maybe, but not last) when Ross came out of the shower and demanded he help him decide what to wear. By the time he got back to his phone he had two new messages from the now familiar number.

**Gotta run. Our biggest donors just arrived. Time to turn on the infallible Smythe charm.**

And the second read: **By the way. The whole swashbuckling thing? Super hot. ; )**

He didn't even hesitate before scrolling up and pressing Add to Contacts.


	7. Interlude in the Key of A

**Things I have done this week: spent hours refreshing my tumblr dash and twitter for anything Ascendio/Comic-Con related. Read real people books. Worked a 42 hour work week. Written a semi-random one shot. Watched everything StarKid related I could find on the interwebz. Moped pathetically around the house. PLANNED BLAINE AND SEBASTIAN'S ENTIRE LIVES.**

**Things I have not done this week: Cured cancer. Gone to the gym. Laundry. Listened to anything not from a musical. Written chapter 6. **

**Filler chapter is repentantly filler. :-(**

* * *

Summer, it seemed, had gone by in a flash. He could have sworn it was only last week he was sitting on the Berry's lawn, having an unexpected heart to heart with Santana. It wasn't last week though; it was two months ago, at the first New Directions gathering of the summer.

Now, here they were at the last; their group already smaller because Quinn had left for orientation and Mercedes was probably in Oklahoma right now as she and her family drove everything she owned (or so it seemed when they helped her pack) from Lima to LA. Santana was leaving later that day, off to Kentucky for what she insisted would only be a semester because Britt had begged and pleaded. And Kurt, Kurt would be gone by the end of the week. Off chasing his New York dreams with Rachel.

They had met up for one last coffee at the Lima Bean because, Breadstix aside, this had become one of their main hangouts. Apparently, this was entirely due to Kurt's stalking of Blaine for which they were both teased mercilessly. But they also got free drinks and muffins because of it, so it was worth it.

They were trying their hardest to keep things light; joking about how much they'd change by Thanksgiving, the next time they planned on being altogether again. Santana would be a vegan, and Rachel would have terrified her way into a leading Broadway roll. Britt was going to be on her way to class valedictorian and Puck would finally realize how stupid his hair was, which had caused a 20 minute argument that ended in whipped cream being flung mercilessly until the barista threatened to throw them out. It was a mostly empty threat, they knew, because she absolutely loved them but it was enough to make them settle down.

"I am definitely not going to miss any of you," Puck declared, scowling. This launched a mock-fight over whom, exactly, Puck would miss the most. Tina was making a hilarious and fairly convincing argument for herself when Blaine felt Kurt tense up next to him.

"It was too much to hope that he had just crawled into a sewer and died there," he muttered.

"Who?" Rachel demanded shrilly, whipping around to see who Kurt was talking about. The rest of New Directions followed her lead, all turning to gawk at the crowd of boys who just entered the shop. In the middle of them stood Sebastian, making what looked like a very crude joke about something that caused the other boys to burst into laughter. They made their way to the counter and started to order as Kurt continued to glower at them.

"We were wishing for his death?" Santana asked nonchalantly.

"Obviously," Rachel said. "I mean we hadn't seen him all summer. I was at least hoping he'd been chased out of the country."

"Why would we see him over the summer?" Blaine commented without thinking. "He lives in Illinois."

"Then why is he back now? I thought you didn't go back until next week?" Kurt asked icily, like Blaine had been hiding the fact that he had already started school or something.

"We don't. He runs cross country. He's probably back for preseason." He squirmed under the suspicious glares of his friends, refusing to be ashamed of knowing this. They had been friends last year; it wasn't a weird thing for him to remember. He was spared the need to further defend himself by the Dalton boys filing by their tables, Sebastian bringing up the rear.

He slowed down. "Santana," he greeted, much to everyone's surprise.

"Bitchlett," she returned, not even bothering to look up from her nails.

"Blaine," he inclined his head in his direction, "Long time no talk," leaving Blaine to wonder whether it was an accusation or not. It wasn't like Sebastian couldn't have texted him too; obviously he had his number.

"What do you want?" ground out Kurt.

"I was just saying hello. It's called having manners. A foreign concept to some of you, I'm sure."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Puck angrily leapt to his feet.

"Just an observation," he smirked.

"If you had any manners you would say hello to all of us, not just Blaine and Santana." Rachel smirked confidently, sure she had beat him at his own game.

Smiling his most charming smile, he took a deep breath, "Hello Rachel, Finn, Brittany, Mike, Tina, Sugar, Artie, Puckerman, Sam, Joe, Kurt," the last said with a grimace. "I notice that Rory, Mercedes, and Quinn aren't here. Please send along my salutations. Now if you'll excuse me, our coach is a sadistic bastard and is having us run a half-marathon this afternoon." He bowed and swept away as calmly as he came over.

They sat in stunned silence for a minute. "Is anyone else surprised he actually knows our names?" Artie asked finally.

"Yeah. And seeing so many Dalton boys not in uniform? I feel like I've been transported to a different dimension," added Tina.

"Guys, it's not like we live in them. We have other clothes."

"I remember the first time I saw our Blainers out of uniform. All I could think was 'dayum, I didn't know white boys could have an ass like that.'" Santana grinned cheekily up at him. Blaine, who had just stood to get himself another coffee, shrieked as Santana reached out and pinched his butt. She winked at him and everyone started laughing, making fun of his girlish shout. Even Kurt was smiling a little.

In for a penny, in for a pound, he thought with a shrug before throwing himself into her lap, nearly upsetting the table. "Oh darling," he drawled, running his hand over her exposed clavicle, "I had no idea you felt that way about me."

"Oh baby, oh baby," she said monotonously.

Kurt was unceremoniously hauling him up and back to their couch and Rachel was shrieking 'My eyes! My eyes!' but both were cracking up.

"Face it, Berry. You're just jealous because everyone's favorite hobbit just got farther with me than he ever did with you."

"Well he's gotten farthest with me. So shut it," Kurt snipped thoughtlessly. Suddenly everyone was hounding them for details about their sex life and both were blushing scarlet and stammering. Finn was rocking back and forth, begging them to stop because 'that's my brother guys. Eww,.' Rachel was alternating between comforting him and asking them who topped and if they used toys and Kurt was staring at his future roommate in absolute horror.

"How do you even know about that?" Puck asked admiringly.

"Please, Noah. I have two gay dads."

Where the conversation went from there, Blain didn't know. Despite his marathon claims, Sebastian and his friends had settled at a cluster of tables on the other side of the of the mug display. If Blaine just leaned back and to the left a little he could see them. Not that he was looking. But the kid next to Sebastian was wearing an obnoxiously neon shirt and it was just really hard to look anywhere else.

He was trying not to read too much into the encounter, but he couldn't stop wondering why Sebastian had said hi to Santana first. Sure, they had some sort of weird grudging respect for the other's bitchiness, but what if… Was he mad at him for just disappearing during the summer? They had a surprising and pretty awesome day together, completely out of the blue, and then nothing. But Blaine had been really busy and it wasn't like he spent all of his time glued to his phone and texting everyone he knew and just ignoring Sebastian. He totally had to be angry, because he was very pointedly not looking over at them, which Blaine only knew because he was doing them same and he had never actually realized how very awkward it was for two people to be pointedly not looking at each other.

"Blaine, honey. You okay?" Kurt was staring at him with that sweet, loving, concerned face that always managed to break his heart a little because he had done something to put that look there.

"Yeah." He smiled brightly. "Just thinking about how weird this all is."

"Yeah, it will be. But it'll be okay. Just different?" Kurt said voice full of false confidence. It was easy enough for Kurt to say. He was headed to one of the most glamorous cities in the world while Blaine was headed to Westerville which, admittedly, was more glamorous than say Lima, but still nothing to write home about.

Blaine smiled even brighter and laced their fingers together, taking a glance to see if anyone was paying any attention to them before darting in and pressing a quick kiss to his boyfriend's cheek. "Just different," he assured, hoping his grin made it look like he actually believed it.

* * *

**Meh. I'm really sorry this is a fake chapter. The real one is supposed to be about Kurt moving to NYC, but thus far I'm having zero luck with it. I'm about 2 days from just summing the entire thing up in a paragraph.  
Brightside, I've gotten a crap ton written for later in the story. So fewer waits between updates later?  
Someone inspire me for chapter 6? plzzzz :-(**


	8. Chapter 6

**Author's note: Chapter 6 and I have not gotten along. I wrote about 3 billion different versions of it and wasn't happy with any of them. So those have all been placed in my Lost Moments file (where, incidentally, the interlude came from). Not at all my best work. I blame real life which has gotten me super down lately.**

* * *

According to Wes he was pitiful. According to his mother he was 'suffering a case of the doldrums.' His father was keeping blessedly silent on the entire topic, for which he was grateful because talking about it was something he really didn't want to do. Nor did he want to be subjected to any more attempts at cheering him up. He just wanted to pack his stuff up in peace and maybe cry a little every time he came across something Kurt had left behind.

Missing him wasn't something that could magically be fixed with the right combination of words. They had spent almost every day together for the past year and now there were hundreds of miles between them and nothing short of a teleportation device was going to make that suck less.

Helping Rachel and Kurt move had been an emotional rollercoaster for all of them. They had left Friday morning and were on the road all day, Rachel and Kurt occasionally commenting that it wasn't fair that he was doing all the driving, but since neither of them knew how to operate a manual car it was largely a moot point. "Besides," he had argued, "it's not like it's that long of a trip. It's like driving from Westerville to Chicago and then back to Lima. Not like I haven't done that in a day."

He had, however, probably scarred Rachel forever with his road rage, especially after someone with a Michigan decal cut them off as they were entering the tunnel.

The three of them had spent the night on air mattresses in the middle of the new HummelBerry living room, picking at Chinese food from the carton and trying to watch movies on Blaine's phone because they weren't actually doing The Move In until the next day when their parents, who didn't think driving 400 miles for a pizza was a sane idea, finally made it after passing the night somewhere in Pennsylvania, which meant that plates, furniture, and a television were among the (many) things they didn't have.

Saturday morning he had awoken to Kurt and Rachel fighting over who would get to use the bathroom first. He took their squabble as an opportunity to sneak in and take his own shower, emerging in a puff of steam before they even realized what he was up to. To apologize for his 'deplorable' (Rachel's word, not his) behavior he'd ventured out to get breakfast which they were happily eating when the families arrived.

As soon as their cars were unloaded Burt, Finn, and Blaine were sent across town to Blaine's apartment to retrieve all the things that were purchased in July. Between the three of them they could have made everything fit in one trip, but Finn wanted to spend as little time with Rachel as possible and none of them felt particularly inclined to be part of the decorating process.

By 10 that night all the furniture had arrived and been organized, but they had spent so long fighting over exactly where the sofa should go that the only room that had gotten set up was the kitchen. They said their goodnights and agreed to meet up for breakfast at 8.30 the next morning. Then it was just the three of them and it had felt so real, so like it could have been a permanent thing that it made Blaine's heart ache because he knew it wasn't.

He and Kurt had agreed weeks ago that they would treat this night just like any other. So they entertained Rachel's whim to unpack at least a little bit more before retiring for the night. If they kissed each other a little harder and clung to one another a little bit more neither could be blamed.

In theory breakfast out had been a good one. They all had to be at work the next morning, so everyone was facing a 10+ hour drive, which meant they had to be leaving the city at a reasonable hour. Since wait staffs tended to start giving off strong _leave_ signals after you'd been there for a couple hours they would have some pressure to keep to their schedule. Also, the fact that they were in public would mean they'd have to maintain some level of composure.

While the former was very true, the latter was less so. Hiram had sobbed pretty steadily throughout the two hours they were there and Leroy had to excuse himself to go to the men's room multiple times. Rachel kept tearfully telling everyone she loved them and how much they'd influenced her on her path to stardom. Burt hadn't said anything since they sat down and Kurt's eyes watered alarmingly whenever he made eye contact with anyone.

Blaine managed to keep it together by mentally planning out every single detail of what needed to be done between when he got home and when he headed off to Dalton.

Everything was fine until he found himself in the parking garage. Rachel had just bawled uncontrollably on his shoulder for a good five minutes and was now having a whispered and awkward conversation with Finn. Burt was lecturing Kurt on city safety, having to break off every few minutes to gather himself when Carole sidled up to him.

"Would it be okay if I drove your car the first leg? Burt's going to be an awful crank and it would be nice to not have to think for a while," she said casually. Except her eyes were saying she was doing it for him, to keep him from being alone for a little while longer. And then he was fighting for air and crying in an embarrassingly hysterical manner and Kurt was at his side and they were clinging to each other and whispering words that were probably more nonsense than not. _And…_ he shook his head clear of those memories.

It was just a thing and it wasn't like he was never going to get over it. He had made it through most of his life without having a loving, wonderful boyfriend attached to his hip. He just had to readjust to that, but at least now he had a loving wonderful boyfriend somewhere. And in less than a year he'd be living in New York too; sharing in Kurt and Rachel's adventures and leaving his own mark on the city.

One year, he would just keep repeating to himself until the days bled away and soon enough it would be 6 months, then 4 months, 1 month, 1 week, till one morning he'd wake up to the annoyed shrieking of car horns, wrapped around Kurt with Rachel hogging the bathroom. A year was hardly any time at all.

Elephants, David had helpfully informed him, had a gestation period of almost two years and if they could deal with being pregnant for that long, he could certainly cope with a few months of separation. Richard had taken the opportunity to point out that Odysseus and Penelope had been tragically separated by the cruelty of fate for twenty years and 'that, you know, worked out. Mostly.' Blaine had hung up at that point because Richard knew very well that he hadn't even made it halfway through the Odyssey and he'd relied entirely on Sparknotes for the Iliad.

He wasn't really sure if either of them had been at all helpful, but he appreciated their attempts and was willing to reevaluate their efforts at a later date.

Currently he was ignoring all three of them entirely because they had hired a stripper to show up at the barn and the smirking face of Travis saying 'there's someone here to see you,' when he pulled into the parking lot on Tuesday was not something he was going to be forgetting any time soon. The scantily clad woman who was wearing inappropriately high stilettos was already wiped from his mind. Or she would have been if Marguerite wasn't now Wes'… well whatever it is they were, and thus standing by, camera at the ready. He hadn't even made it home before his horrified face and her massive breasts were the profile picture of half of his friends, which he just knew Richard had something to do with.

The only problem with not talking to them was that he was also not talk to Kurt (at least during the day) which left a whole lot of silence in his life. Not talking during the day had been his idea. Kurt needed to spend his days making his new life-finding work, learning how to navigate the subway, exploring the city, actually organizing the apartment instead of just living out of boxes- not Skyping his high school boyfriend so they could talk about how much they missed each other or watch Desperate Housewives reruns together. It seemed to be working well, at least Kurt had tons to tell him every day, face glowing in excitement and delightfully animated.

His internship had ended the week before, but he still called in to see if they had any extra work for him that week (they didn't.). He had already done an ungodly amount of laundry and spent so much time with Toby that he suspected his horse was actually getting sick of him. Half packed boxes and bags littered his room, but he wasn't going anywhere until Saturday, so he couldn't motivate himself to do anything more than throw in an extra pack of pens and a couple socks.

When his mother got home from work that evening he was lying on the couch in his oldest sweats, half-heartedly watching Bravo. He ignored her looks of concern in favor of trying to find a grape Skittle.

"Are you okay, sweetie?"

"Fine, mom," he responded not bothering to look up. He started in surprise when he felt his feet being lifted up as his mother settled at the end of the couch. They hadn't sat like this in years. As a kid he had gone to her for everything and now he couldn't remember when or why that changed. Before he came out, he knew. He could recall the distance growing as he struggled with his sexuality, but whether the two were related he didn't know anymore.

"Do you just miss your friends? They've all gone off now, haven't they to college or… wherever it is they're going?" She hesitated over the last; still unsure of the concept of a person doing anything other than continuing school once they graduated. Blaine smiled in appreciative understanding.

"Yeah. Just missing them. It's been a hard couple of weeks." He glanced up and she was chewing on her lower lip. He let her mull over whatever she was thinking about. He knew that look on her face, remembered it most keenly from his days in the hospital when she held vigil at his bedside, arriving at the start of visiting hours and not leaving until she'd been asked, but never really saying anything.

"I had eight months of my degree left when your father got his job offer here. It was too good to pass up and I convinced him to accept it, even though he wanted to stay and wait for me." More lip chewing. "I know that it seems like June is forever away. But I promise it isn't. Just keep yourself busy and it'll be here before you know it."

It was, he realized, the closest she had ever come to acknowledging what Kurt was to him and even if it was miles away from the acceptance he yearned to hear, it was a start.

"Now go get cleaned up," she swatted at his feet. "Dinner in 45?"

The next two days flew by in a flurry of packing. Despite the fact that he wasn't talking to them, David showed up at his front door Friday morning to help him and promptly called up Wes in case Blaine needed advice on how best to pack his blazers. He saw through the paper thin excuse in an instant but magnanimously abided it anyways. Mostly he was just relieved that it was David who was still around and not one of the other two. If it had been, he probably would have arrived at Dalton with boxes full of tiaras, feathered boas, and porn instead of school supplies and books.

Richard Skyped in on his lunch hour and spent most of it trying to convince David to 'accidentally' set fire to Blaine's vests. In turn, Blaine threatened to tell Jeff about that _thing_ that never happened and he would very possibly do it within earshot of the headmaster because he'd be interested too.

"You suck," Richard said before switching to a whining monologue about how much rain they were getting. Eventually he caught sight of the time and realized he was late getting back to work. "Thank God Catherine loves me too much to kill me," he said, referring to his boss. "Now, Blaine. You should keep an eye on the mail once you get back to our hallowed halls. I've sent you a little something."

"Is it a poster of me and that poor woman with the caption A _Buttercup for my buttercup_?" He deadpanned.

"…No. That would be dumb," scoffed Richard. "Whose reaction to a stripper is to ask them for their name?"

"Someone who isn't turned on by tits?"

"Blaine," David gasped as soon as he was done choking in surprise. "You can't just say things like that."

"Too much time in public school. Exposed to all those miscreants and heathens," Richard was sadly shaking his head.

"That job you claim to have? Go do it."

* * *

**Am officially declaring my own case of the doldrums to be over BECAUSE BLAINE IS BACK AT DALTON NEXT CHAPTER and who isn't happy about that? (Other than Kurt…) And you know who is really happy about it? SEBASTIAN. Because he'll actually be around now. **

**Reviews are love. 3 And thank you to everyone who has read this far. You guys are awesome. **


	9. Chapter 7

**Author's note: So sometimes I get a little obsessed with accuracy. So not only do I now have a helpful calendar that alerts me to such important things as 'B fights with K' etcetc and planned class schedules for both boys for the entire year, I have recently put my rudimentary paint skills to use creating a map of Dalton. Also I now know more about Westerville, Ohio than any non-Westervillian should. For example, did you know it's 93% white, the median income is over $70,000, it has 4 bus lines and 16 elementary school, and has been nicknamed 'the dry capital of the world'? Now you do. You are welcome.**

* * *

Blaine was carefully hanging up his blazers when his phone chimed, alerting him to a new text message.

**From: Sebastian Smythe**

**Did I just hallucinate you dragging a suitcase across the quad?**

**You can just tell me you miss me. :-P **He winced, wondering what it was about Sebastian that inspired him to turn into a 12 year old girl and use emoticons. **I neither have a suitcase in my hands, nor am I standing in Dalton's quad. I can only assume it was a hallucination.**

**From: Sebastian Smythe**  
**If we expand 'just' to include anytime within the past 3 hours? I was on a run.**

**From: Sebastian Smyth**

**Before you say anything, I was properly hydrated and nourished.**

**It is very hot out… **Blaine hedged.

**From: Sebastian Smyth**

**That must be it. **

**From: Sebastian Smyth  
We have a new student named Blaine. He lives on the 3****rd**** floor of Connors. Rumor has it he's a senior. I should go introduce myself.**

**Maybe give him time to settle in? Then I'm sure he'd just love to meet you. **Was he actually inviting Sebastian to his room? It certainly sounded like he was which was equally interesting and somehow unsurprising.

A loud knock of the door caused him to drop his phone in surprise. After the silences of home the boyish outbursts of the dorms always had startled him for the first couple days. It was the best kind of change and not for the first time he wondered how he had just left it all behind last year.

"-of course I don't know who it is. But his name is Blaine, which means he is obligated to be our best friend," a voice he giddily recognized as Trent's said. Either they hadn't been back on campus long enough to hear the same rumors as Sebastian (even if it had been a coincidence, a senior named Blaine moving into the Warbler dorm was too suspicious to escape notice) or Sebastian's rumor mill was actually Doris.

"I feel awful for anyone who you call a best friend," Blaine said wryly, swinging the door open and trying to keep the emerging grin from entirely taking over his face. It would have been a lot easier to do if it weren't for the identically looks of flabbergasted shock that the five boys gathered outside his room were now wearing. "Come in, you idiots. If you can all fit. Kurt's closet is bigger than this." He stepped back and hastily kicked some stray boxes under the bed.

"Bastard," Trent finally cried, charging into the room and throwing his arms around Blaine. "How the fuck did you keep this from us. Does David know? He has to, he was with you yesterday. I'll kill him." He was pried away and Blaine suddenly found himself squished between Nick and Jeff. Ben was frantically texting; probably telling the rest of the Warblers, and Ethan, who had only met Blaine a couple of times was awkwardly standing in the doorway but smiling just as widely as the rest.

"We're the only ones here so far," Jeff said once the initial rush of euphoria died down. "Ethan is on the tennis team with Ben, so they've been here for a while. I just wanted out of my house. And these guys," he jerked his head in the direction of Trent and Nick, "have important Warbler council things to do."

"You already selected the council?" He asked in confusion. Although everyone basically knew who was going to be on council, it was never officially voted on until the first meeting, so that they new members had a say too. It was always good to create the illusion of a happy democracy before the captain abruptly turned it into a ruthless dictatorship, Wes had told him a little too gleefully. It fostered a good sense of unity, apparently.

Trent nodded, suddenly becoming very interested in Blaine's DVD collection.

"There's nothing about it in the codex. And after… certain circumstances, shall we say, that arose last year we thought it would be best to start the year off with positions already established to avoid further mishap," Nick said carefully. He was the only one even looking in Blaine's direction anymore and even he was studiously avoiding eye contact.

"Right," he said shortly, understanding that the 'circumstances' were the guy they had all hoped would be their captain had transferred schools without a backwards glance and the person they'd picked as his replacement turned out to be a borderline psychopath. "Well, Trent is captain, obviously. Nick is Senior Chair. Which poor bastard got stuck with secretary?"

"That would be me," Ben smiled easily. "Gotta start somewhere."

"So how hard will you guys be on me during auditions? Should I be going for the Queen of the Night Aria? Or is Katy Perry still okay?"

"Don't be ridiculous. You're a returning member," Ben snorted.

Trent Pretended to tear up. "Our little lost lamb, finally come home. Also you'd terrify all the freshman. Most are too frightened to sing in front of the mirror. We couldn't possibly ask them to follow you." His phone beeped in his pocket. "That means its time to go. Have to finish planning for tonight. 7 in the practice room. Don't be late."

"I'll stick around here. Help the little lamb unpack." Jeff sat on the edge of Blaine's desk. "Dom's going to text me when he gets here, we'll go help him with the heavy lifting." They all laughed because if there was one person who didn't need help with heavy lifting it was Dom.

"You promised you'd help Tris too. He should be here in about an hour," reminded Ben. "And he actually needs help with the heavy lifting."

Jeff removed his phone from his pocket and played around with it for a minute. "Volume's all the way up and set with the most obnoxious ring tones. Anybody comes and we'll hear it. You staying, Ethan?" He asked, turning his attention to the sophomore who was still lurking in the doorway.

"Nah. Some of the guys from the team are getting lunch in town. Might meet up with ya'll later, if that's okay. Assuming I can still move. We're going to Cluckers." Blaine's stomach turned in sympathy. You weren't a Dalton boy if you hadn't stuffed yourself on Cluckers wings.

"Your sheets are glowing," Jeff casually pointed out a few minutes later. He had decided his job would be 'overseeing the operation' which currently meant sitting around and unnecessarily rearranging books.

Stooping down, Blaine fished his phone out from where he had dropped it earlier and thumbed open the new message.

**From: Sebastian Smythe  
Walked by the new kids room. Seems he's already managed to make some friends.**

"Anyone exciting?"

"Nah. Just Santana," Blaine quickly lied. He hesitated before typing out **I'm sure he wouldn't mind another one. (?) **He wasn't at all surprised when Sebastian never replied.

He didn't spend the rest of the day dwelling on it. He didn't have time for that. They'd barely finished organizing his room before Tristan arrived and they rushed off to help him. Halfway through lugging his indecently heavy trunk up the three flights of stairs to his room Dominic messaged Jeff, letting him know that he'd just pulled up. Blaine had never been happier to see anyone in his life because that trunk was about as long as he was tall and probably weighed more than he did. The 3 pizzas and 6 pack they now owed him was, in his opinion, poor negotiating skills on Dom's part.

Once everyone's rooms were semi-set up (Tristan had pretty much literally just thrown things at various surfaces and grunted 'good enough' when they landed in the general vicinity of their intended destination.) Blaine was dragged around the dorms. Every other room, it seemed, had someone who was thrilled to see him back.

They still had two floors left when Tristan informed them that it was now 6.57 and helpfully suggested that they should probably get their butts over to Wexner ASAP. So no, he hadn't spent all day dwelling over his earlier conversation with Sebastian but it floated across his mind enough for him to be a little anxious at the prospect of being in the same room with him.

The room was already packed when they got there. Boys were sprawled across every available surface and awkwardly standing in all the corners. Eleven were already Warblers and policy mandated they kept their places in the group. The other (Blaine did a quick count) 35 were looking to fill the holes left by departing seniors.

Looking around he only recognized a handful of the potentials. Most of them looked like they were freshman or sophomores. Although there was no rule saying an upperclassman couldn't audition, it was uncommon. People tended to become discouraged after their second or third rejections. The trio clustered by the window looked like they were probably juniors- too old to be underclassmen, but too unsure of themselves to be seniors and, he squinted, the boy in the wingback chair had been in Algebra with him.

The heavy wooden doors opened and two more boys walked in, freshman by the looks of them. 37 hopefuls. He sighed; tomorrow was going to be a long day. Next to him, Jeff shuddered in commiseration.

The banging of the gavel was nearly swallowed by the chatter, but one by one the groups fell silent until it echoed through the room.

"Hello, everybody. My name is Trent Donahue. I'm a senior and captain of the Warblers. This is my second year serving on the council and my fourth year in the group. On my left," he gestured down the table, "are my fellow council members. Nick Beatty and Benjamin McCoy. A bit about yourselves, gentlemen?"

Nick stood up and waved jovially. "I'm Nicolas, or Nick." Blaine snorted, the only person whom he had ever heard call Nick Nicolas was the headmaster. "This is my first year on council and my fourth year as a Warbler. I'm the Senior Chair. I'll also be in charge of the arranging, so any song suggestions should be sent my way. It's great to be here and I look forward to getting to know you. Ben?" He sat down as Ben stood up.

"Hey, everyone. I'm Ben. Um, I'm a junior, joined the Warblers as a freshman. This is also my first year on council. I'm the secretary so I'll mostly be doing to grunt work," he shrugged. "I also on the tennis team, so if you can't find me here I'm probably on the courts." He smiled brightly.

"Excellent. Now, I know there is a lot of us, but we're going to _quickly_," Trent emphasized the word, "go around and introduce ourselves. Current Warblers first, and if you can add how long you've been with us?"

Somebody near the window groaned aloud. Blaine couldn't help but agree with the sentiment. Nevertheless, when it came his turn he stepped forward, grinning brightly and saying "Blaine Anderson. I'm a senior and this will be my third year as a Warbler." The two people he hadn't already seen babbled in excitement which sparked a rather embarrassing round of applause. Sebastian looked politely disinterested as he whispered to the boy next to him.

They finished the introductions on a freshman named Frey and Trent stood back up.

"Again, welcome to you all. The pizza should be here in half an hour," a couple of the boys huzzahed, "and until then I thought we could do a bit of an introduction. As some of you may be aware, the Dalton Academy Warblers were founded…"

Blaine tuned him out. Having heard this spiel several (hundred) times already, he could probably recite it. "I call winner," he whispered to Jeff, who was thumb wrestling with Dominic. There wasn't a winner, ultimately, because a particularly vehement twist on Jeff's part nearly knocked over a lamp and Nick was glaring at them.

"But enough about our history," Trent was saying, realizing that he was rapidly losing his audience. "Let us now look to our future and your role in it. This year we only need three new members. This means, unfortunately, that many of you will not be joining us. The next couple days we're going to be looking for those of you who fit with us best.

"Auditions are all day tomorrow, between 9 and 4. I know some teams have mandatory practices, so I ask that those of you doing sports please sign up first. Any commuters, we ask you to sign up next. You will sign up for a 5 minute time slot during which you will sing one song. Anyone who was planning on Call Me, Maybe or anything by LMFAO, I strongly suggest you rethink your choices." Both Nick and Trent had preteen sisters and Blaine strongly suspected that had been their summer soundtrack, poor bastards.

"At 7 tomorrow evening we will post a listing of those of you who made the final cut. In Warbler tradition, we invite those 10 to join us for game night, which will give us an opportunity to get to know you better and see how you fit in with the group. Monday morning we will have a second audition round. As you know we are an a capella group, which means we rely solely on our voices. We ask that you reflect this philosophy during this stage of the audition process. Our final decisions will be posted following Convocation on Monday afternoon."

Nick rose, taking over for Trent. "The Warblers are not only about talent, we are also about respect and cohesion. You will need all three to be considered a solid candidate for this group. We already have two competition leads," he indicated Sebastian and Blaine. "This does not mean we wouldn't consider a new one, but it is unlikely. One can dance, one can rap, they're both extraordinary singers, and they look the part. For anyone whom this a problem, we understand and we will not begrudge you if you decided not to audition."

"So we're just trying out to be backup singers?" a disgruntled voice asked.

"Yes and no. Both boys are graduating in June, meaning lead will need to be filled next year. And they are only our competition leads. We can have up to three competitions a year; sectionals, regionals, and nationals. Two years ago, at Blaine's insistence we began performing in other venues." The guys who had been around for that all stifled giggles as Blaine blushed hotly. "Last year, under Sebastian's initiative, we continued with this. We already have several benefits and concerts lined up for the year, both inside and outside of Dalton. We will hold open auditions for leads for these events."

"Does anyone else have any questions?" Ben asked the room at large.

A skinny boy with curly blond hair raised his hand. Waiting for Trent to nod in acknowledgement before asking, "I was wondering about the time commitment? I play basketball during the winter and just wanted to know how that would work out." He flushed the entire time he spoke, clearly embarrassed to be the center of so much attention, but quietly determined anyway.

"Great question. Being a Warbler is a big time commitment. We have practice after school four days a week, typically in the evenings. As Nick mentioned, we also have several competitions which are held on the weekends as well as our other performances," Ben explained.

Looking thoughtful, Nick interrupted him, "Actually, Sebastian might be the best person to answer this. He's pretty much the busiest person you'll ever meet," he added to the rest of the group.

Sebastian rolled his eyes but stood up anyways. "I'm Sebastian," he introduced himself again, plastering an alarming professional smile on his face. He looked more like he was addressing a boardroom than a group of his teenaged peers. "I run indoor track during the winter and this year I'm captain of the cross country and lacrosse teams. I also play lacrosse for the Westerville Thunder all year. I do volunteer work on Sundays and I'm a co-founder of the Smythe Foundation, which is an international non-profit organization. I have a 3.9 grade point average, was captain of the Warbler's last year, and I manage to lead a very fulfilling social life." Even if Blaine had never met him before, his smirk made it abundantly clear exactly what kind of social life he was leading.

"I don't expect any of you to be as crazy as me; in fact I encourage you not to. But it is very much possible to be a Warbler and have an extracurricular or two. If anyone finds themselves struggling to balance their schedules, I'd be more than happy to help with that. Time management is something of a hobby." He flashed another smile and sat back down.

"Although our practice time is mostly fixed, we do go month by month to make any necessary adjustments. Sebastian is in charge of scheduling. We give him our weekly schedules at the first practice and he figures out when we can all meet. At the end of every month we let him know about any upcoming conflicts we might have. Sporting events, other concerts, or whatever, and he figures out how to make that work," Ben said. "We understand having to miss the occasional rehearsal, but we don't want to see you make it a habit."

"I'm afraid any other questions you have will need to be addressed to individual members. And if you all could begin to form an orderly line, food will be here momentarily," Trent declared.

Against his will, Blaine was jostled into a place in the line. After getting his pizza, he decided, he would casually approach Sebastian, maybe under the pretext of introducing himself to the kid Sebastian had spent the entire meeting whispering to. He'd be being a good Warbler and, if he was lucky, he could try and clear the air between them before getting on with this evening and relishing in being back. It was a brilliant plan.

The only flaw was, at some point in the five minutes between Trent's announcement and when he took his first delicious bite of Hawaiian pizza, Sebastian had gone.

* * *

**Yay yay yay. Boys are back at Dalton and silly. They should just fall in love already.  
Thank you to everyone who has stayed with the story, especially after last chapter. 3 all of you and your wonderful reviews. (I try and reply to all of them but my inbox is so disorganized. Please don't be offended if I don't reply, or if it takes a while. I swear I still love you. :-P)  
Next two chapters are going to be the audition process and general Warbler boy shenanigans.  
Also Cluckers is a real restaurant in the Westerville/Columbus area. According to the reviews on Urbanspoon it's really good, but I've never been to Ohio, so I wouldn't know. **


	10. Chapter 8

**Westerville fun fact of the day: In 1830 the population of the Westerville area was approximately 700 people.  
YOU ARE STILL WELCOME (also I'm a total trivia nerd), so this is only like 23% weird. **

**Hopefully you're all willing to accept that the Warblers are really just a secret society that happens to sing a lot, otherwise I'm going to come across much more crazy than I actually am. **

**Also I'm kind of having a shit time of it lately, regarding my personal life. And I might be taking my distress and frustration out on the next chapter. So appreciate the silly in this one in preparation for the angst of the next.**

* * *

They all let out a sigh as the door closed behind the final audition and immediately slumped down in their seats. It hadn't actually been that bad of a day, Blaine supposed. The first audition wasn't even until 10.30, which had been nice. But a lot of them had been nervous and ended up running over their time. He was a little jealous of Sebastian and Ethan who got to miss an hour for practice. Only a very little, though, because it was hot as fuck outside.

"Can we have a quick coffee break? Or are we just going to power through?" Blaine asked. His hand was feeling a little numb from all the notes he had taken and if he didn't have at least a shot of caffeine he was never going to be able to decipher what he had written. "I'll buy," he offered because Trent's face was looking like a no. The other boys didn't even wait for a response before they were stampeding out the door headed towards the commons.

They reconvened 10 minutes later, everyone clutching their cups like a life line and looking at Blaine like he was a hero. Thomas, a sophomore Blaine didn't know very well, was promising to have a statue built in his honor.

"It really could have been worse," Ben sighed as they sat back down. "Only four did Bruno and five fun. And there was even that one kid who did Matchbox 20." That had been a refreshing change after the third rendition of What Makes You Beautiful.

"And the kid who did the song from Chess."

"He was good," Luke agreed. Trent banged his gavel.

"Let's talk about them in order," Trent commanded, flipping to the first page of his notes. There was a general rustling as the others followed his lead.

"Wait, is there anyone we can rule out altogether?" Everyone shifted uncomfortably, clearly not wanting to be the first to say anything.

"Alan Morin," Sebastian was the first to speak up. He looked down to briefly consult his own notes. "He was off key for half his song and didn't seem to notice. And he did Chris Brown." He shrugged, like his choice was obvious.

"So?" Lucas asked hostilely. Trent was glaring at him too.

"We're a school known for our anti-bullying stance. It might have been an inappropriate choice," Blaine jumped in, trying to diffuse the tension. "He also forgot the lyrics to the third verse."

"Vote?" Nick asked wearily, eyeing Trent with annoyance. "Everyone in favor of keeping Alan in the pool?" No one raised their hand. "And against?" 10 hands raised, Trent's somewhat begrudgingly and Luke's staying stubbornly down. "1 down, a million more to go," he sighed. "Anyone else?" Eventually they nixed 3 others whom they all agreed had no chance.

Two and a half hours later they had their list of 10. Blaine's shoulder was tired from the constant raising and lowering of his arm from all of the voting. In order to make the cut there had to be unanimous agreement, made all the more difficult by the fact that certain members seemed oddly inclined to disagree with a certain other member.

He had been about a minute away from suggesting they start using secret ballots or something when Sebastian began abstaining from voting until everyone else had cast theirs. It was ridiculous and childish on the part of Trent and Lucas, especially since Trent was the captain. And by the looks that Ben and Nick were giving him it was obvious there was going to be a serious conversation happening very soon.

"So much for cohesion," he muttered to Dominic, watching Trent go to post the list outside the room. Dominic snorted in agreement.

"Let's get out of here. I don't want to be around to stare at all those poor dejected faces," Tristan said, pushing himself up. "And I'm hungry," he added. "Sucks to be Ben." They had been best friends since they were 9 and he didn't at all pity the fact that, as a council member, Ben had to stick around to talk to any disgruntled rejects.

"Be at the outhouse by 12.30. Jeff and Sebastian, don't forget you're on drink duty. Tris, you're helping me with the games," Ben called after their retreating backs. Cheerfully they waved in acknowledgment, already wrapped up in an argument over what The Flatts would have for dinner. Tristan was insistent that it would be shepherd's pie and Dominic was lobbying for linguini. All of them were disappointed when it was meat loaf.

"Welcome back, boys," Nina said from behind the counter, without a trace of irony in her voice. Jeff shuddered a little as his meatloaf jiggled on his plate. Blaine headed for the salad bar.

Grinning, Blaine snuck down the hallway. His route was easy; none of the on-duty houseparents were between him and the basement. Jeff, he knew, was planning on using a well secured bed sheet to get from his window to Nick's. It wasn't actually necessary, he could have gone down the back stairway and looped around, but he always had a bit of flare for the dramatic.

The outhouse was actually the maintenance building, connected to Connors and Thomas via underground tunnels that came out in the basement. The door was believed to be securely locked, but the captain of the Warblers held a copy of the key that had been made with the utmost cunning almost 20 years ago, or so the story goes.

He made his way through the tunnel, wondering how many of the new guys would show up. Doing this was always a risk. Freshman were not well known for their ability to sneak around the dorms, so there was always the chance that they'd be caught before the night had even started. Freshman also weren't known for being brave, so there was always the risk they wouldn't come. Sophomores were less timid, but there would be alcohol there and they could technically be expelled for that. (No one had been in years for a first time violation. The standard punishment was two weeks of lockdown.) It was dangerous, but such gatherings were integral to being a Warbler and if something was going to go wrong it was better to find out earlier than later, like right before Nationals.

He snuck into the room just as Trent was explaining that, although there was alcohol and many of them would be drinking, no one should feel pressured into it. All three council members would be abstaining. Of the 10 potentials, 3 were freshman and Blaine was glad to see that all of them opted for plain soda. There was just something about serving alcohol to 13 year olds that didn't sit well with him.

Pouring himself a rum and coke, he began to make a round of the room, introducing himself to everyone he didn't know and scoping out the games. They forwent the drinking games that normally populated their gatherings because alcohol poisoning was not a good way to start off the year. A game of Uno was beginning in one corner and it looked like Dominic had gotten his hands on the Jenga blocks.

"Blaine, come help Simon kick their sorry asses in Password," Ben shouted across the room where he was preparing to serve as mediator for the game.

"Yeah, right," Jeff sneered. Privately, Blaine agreed. Jeff and Nick were the reigning Password champions and probably had some sort of freakish psychic connection because once Nick had guessed Jane Fonda when all Jeff had done was roll his eyes and twitch his nose a bit.

Despite the likelihood of failure, Blaine gamely joined in. Simon, it turned out, was the one who had sang _All I Need_. From what Blaine could recall he was a sophomore, transfer student. He turned out to be a decent partner although they still ended up losing by an embarrassingly large margin.

"We didn't stand a chance," Blaine reassured him. "They're 89% the same people." He stood up and stretched. "I need another drink, can I get anyone anything?" All three shook their heads and he ambled off to the drink table alone.

Tristan was now playing at bartending and poured him a shot of tequila as well as a Red Bull vodka. Behind him there was a loud shout as someone pulled out Twister.

"That's a little gay," muttered one of the new guys. Blaine smiled overly wide at him, mentally putting a big red X next to his face.

"Aren't we all?" He said jovially, making his way over to the game.

There was a brief debate over whether 5 was too many to play, which was ended by Frey declaring "There's no fun without a bit of a challenge." They all cried out in agreement (a check was added next to Frey's name) and Ethan flicked the spinner.

"Right hand, blue," he called out.

Like lightening, Blaine's hand was down. He owned at this game, winning almost every time he played. Even that one time they'd used jello, although he'd ended up with a broken finger. Wes called it a Pyrrhic victory; he called it a glorious triumph.

"Left foot, green." He stretched his leg out, snaking it between the legs of one of the freshman who looked alarmed at this development. It was kind of a bitchy move, so early in the game, but the kid wasn't drinking and he was already on his third and this was serious business.

The first one out was Jeff, who tried to overstretch himself with a 'left hand, yellow,' call. Blaine might have had something to do with it, since he was currently doing his best to take up as much of the mat as possible. Ten minutes later Trent was also out and it was becoming increasingly obvious that Ethan was ignoring the spinner and calling out whatever was most inconvenient for him. He glowered as he twisted backwards, reaching his right hand to a green spot. His back, he was pretty sure, wasn't actually meant to go that way but he was effectively blocking off the sophomore's (Chad? He wondered hazily) ability to do much of anything.

Indeed, on the next spin Chad was forced to try and maneuver his leg under Blaine, but it wasn't working and it wasn't long before he collapsed. And then there were two.

"Come on, Frey," someone called from the gathered crowd. Blaine's wrist was aching from the angle it was at. So, on the next call he started to disentangle himself from the freshman, crouching in the first comfortable position he had been in since the game started. Frey followed him. The kid was basically rail thin, but he didn't seem that flexible. He had made it this far by keeping his body as angled as possible.

"Right hand, blue," Ethan announced and Blaine was stretching towards it but his alcohol addled brain misjudged something and suddenly he was pitching forward, bringing Frey down with him and landing in a painful heap on the floor. The crowd was cheering madly and hands were reaching down to hoist Frey up.

"Sucks to suck, Anderson," Jeff teased as Blaine too was pulled up. Blaine flipped him off. "Ever the perfect gentleman."

His undoubtedly very witty retort was cut off by Trent, who had just clapped his hands for silence. "And now, for the main event!" He announced with a flourish. Ben was making his way to the center of the room, reverently holding a box, next to him Nick had a wizard's hat in his hands. "All of your names have been placed into the Sorting Hat. When Nick calls your name, find a place to sit with your team."

"Team one," Nick proclaimed solemnly, "Dominic, Ethan, Gregory, and Chad." They gathered together. "Team two- Blaine, Vincent, Dean, and Tristan." Dean was the boy who had made the gay comment earlier. Blaine vaguely recognized Vincent from his earlier audition, but he hadn't seen him around since the games were taken out. He emerged from a shadowy corner where he had been doing who only knows what.

Sebastian, apparently, was who would know what Vincent had been doing in the shadows, Blaine discovered as the last team was drawn and he came skulking out of the same corner. Forcibly he kept his mind from supplying images of exactly what they had been doing as he and his teammates found a space around the board.

"I'm assuming you're all familiar with Trivial Pursuit?" Everyone nodded. "This is a bit like that, but with music."

"And just a little harder," Dominic snorted.

"Yes, yes. I'm getting there." Trent was unamused by the interruption. "There are six categories." Nick began handing out the cards with the category key on it. "Blue is pop, green are classics, brown is country, yellow is soundtrack, orange is random, and pink is Broadway," he winked at Blaine who rolled his eyes. "For a yellow, we would also like the name of the movie or TV show it is from. For pink just the title of the song and the name of the show. If you really want to impress us you can list the characters."

"You roll the dice and pick which color to move your marker to. Someone on the team to your right will then read from a card of the corresponding color. On the card is a song lyric," Nick continued. "You have to name the song and the artist that lyric is from and, this is the tricky part, you also have to recite the line _before_it. You have two minutes." It actually was a kind of genius idea. They were expected to know songs forward and backwards. The former was easy, the latter was a skill. "If you know both you get to go again. If you only know the title and artist you can draw another card and try again. But only once per turn."

"Questions, comments, concerns?" Ben piped up. All the returning members were grinning somewhat manically at the looks of horror on the newbies faces. "We promise it's not as bad as it sounds."

"Seriously?" Nyko from team 4 asked.

"Seriously," Blaine chirped.

"Why isn't Trent playing?" Simon asked, genuinely curious.

"Largely irrelevant, but an excellent observation," Nick replied fluidly. "He's Keeper of the Cards. He's also in charge of keeping everything updated- removing the cards no one has a hope of knowing and adding new ones. It wouldn't be fair."

"Also 21 doesn't divide evenly," Dominic smirked.

"That too. And now, if there are no more questions. Let the game begin."

"My team asks first," Ben jumped in. "We have the unfair disadvantage of being mostly new meat." Indeed, he was the only returner on his team.

Team 3, who was sitting to their left, grumbled in acquiescence and rolled the dice and timidly moved to blue.

"Starting off easy," Ben teased. "Alright we can respect that. Braedon, want do the honors?"

Braedon pulled a card from the blue pile and read, "Boy, you're an alien/Your touch so foreign/It's supernatural," as Trent flipped the timer.

"Too easy," Simon chortled. "_E.T_, Katy Perry."

"And the preceding lyric?"

He took a couple seconds to think about it. "Take me, take me/Wanna be a victim/Ready for abduction."

"And team 3 goes again," Trent announced with a grin.

Their next turn was much less successful as Ben goaded them into being daring and going for yellow.

"You didn't need me/For you had your share/Of slaves around you/To hound you and swear/With deep emotion and devotion to you," Josh recited. Simon and Tom looked equally lost.

"Is it from one of those movies from, like, the 50's that my sister always tries to get me to watch?" Gabriel groaned. Josh hummed noncommittally.

Nick was squinting intently at the card looking for all the world like he was hoping to magically gain x-ray vision so he could read through it. "It looks newish. From the past couple of years, certainly. But not from this year. Probably Monroe, then. Wes and David are both obsessed with her."

"Gentlemen Prefer Blondes," blurted Simon, "_I Wanna Be Loved By You_?" The rest of his team shrugged helplessly in agreement.

"Painfully wrong," Josh gloated. "It is Marilyn Monroe," he nodded his head to Nick's impressive (although somewhat cheating) deductive skills. "But it's _I'm Through with Love _which is, obviously, in Some Like It Hot. Preceding line: why did you lead me/to think you could care?

"Gotta bursh up on the classics, boys," Blaine chastised kindly, scooping up the dice and rolling a 9. They decided to try and get a brown wedge first, because it would probably prove the most difficult. So they headed that way and danced around it for several turns, finally losing on 'for the Zapatistas I'll rob my sisters/of all the curtain and lace' which was apparently from some song in Mr. & Mrs. Smith and Blaine was sorry but the music was pretty much the last thing he was paying attention to in that movie.

The game continued with Lucas getting teased mercilessly for not even having to think about the words to the Pussycat Dolls _When I Grow Up_, but it was only really funny for about 2 seconds because they ended up getting a green wedge for it. By and large the problem wasn't with the knowledge of the song, but with the time limit. It did result in general hilarity as the typical method for figure out the lyrics was singing it under your breath whilst wearing all manner of funny facial features that signified either concentration or constipation.

By 3.30, it was a close game. Teams 5 and 2 each had four wedges, teams 1 and 3 had three and Ben's poor team only had 2. Not that they weren't trying, because they really were. They were just really awful at it. In fact, the only person who was worse was Lucas, but Jeff and Frey were making up for his bad guesses in spades and had banned him from ever saying 'final answer.' Even Sebastian was starting to look like he might be enjoying himself. He still hadn't contributed much, although once he made a vague noise of agreement when Frey seemed unsure and neither Jeff nor Lucas could be of any help.

Tristan rolled again and moved the 11 spaces to the orange category headquarter. This was their third attempt for the wedge, which was proving even more difficult than the country one. Random, apparently, really meant random. Last time they had gotten something from an opera. It hadn't even been in English.

Simon pulled a card form the top of the orange pile, smiling in a way that clearly told them to just give up already. The smile slipped down into a frown as he read the card to himself. "Damn, you're probably going to get this one," he said before resignedly reading, "Your lyin' eye/gonna take you right/so listen up/don't make a fight." He had expected excitement because this one really was easy. He hadn't expected the sudden fall of a somber silence.

Dean, in a Finn-ish like oblivion, opened his mouth to reply but was cut off by Jeff's angry shouting.

"Are you shitting me Trent? Why the fuck wasn't that thrown out?"

"I must have missed it! I'm really sorry guys." Trent was caught somewhere between horror-struck and about to cry.

"Not the only one you missed," Nick scoffed, because none of the new guys had any idea what had happened last year and this was not the time for them to be finding out. "The last orange one was in German. None of us speak German. Or listen to opera."

But he was pressing himself as tightly to Blaine's side as he could, entwining their hands together and, purely instinctually, Vincent was doing the same on his other side, even though he had no idea what was going on. He was eternally grateful because a phantom pain was shooting through his head and the last thing he wanted to do was crumple in on himself, cradling his face. The other Warblers were alternating between looking at him and glaring at Sebastian who actually had folded in on himself, the small spark of laughter that had been in his eyes only moments before completely extinguished and looking smaller than Blaine thought was possible given his stature.

"What's the matter with-?" Dean asked.

"It's inappropriate," Lucas snapped.

Once again Dean opened his mouth, this time to argue. Things were about two seconds from becoming a full blown fight, which would have been a little unfair to Dean because, to an outside observer, they were absurdly overreacting. That much was obvious by the looks of absolute confusion dotted around the circle. Unlike everyone else, however, he was opting to argue it.

"The word is out/you're doing wrong/gonna lock you up/before too long," he said quietly. "Michael Jackson. _Bad_. Orange wedge, please." No one bothered to point out they were well outside the time limit. As Tristan fit in the orange wedge, Dean looked like he wanted to protest that he wasn't the one to answer but Blaine was already rolling the dice and Tristan was moving their piece. They landed on pink, which they might have gotten if Blaine had been paying any attention but he just shrugged and muttered, "No clue," handing the dice over to team 4.

It took another round before people stopped looking at him every 2 seconds and started having fun again. When it was his turn to roll again Nick shifted away, but Vince stayed pressed against him, rolling the dice and navigating around the pink headquarter. There original plan had been to save that for last, sure in Blaine's ability to get it, but that plan was put on the back burner when he claimed _Another Suitcase in Another Hall_was from Song and Dance. So Vincent had taken it upon himself to just dance around the square, occasionally testing, but mostly waiting.

Waiting a little too long, apparently, because a number of lucky rolls meant that Team 5 quickly gained their last two wedges and were making their way towards the center. Luckily they ended up trapped between choosing country or Broadway. Country seemed to be the only category Lucas was good at, so they went that way but none of them had ever heard of _You're the Reason Our Kids Are Ugly_.

When it came back around to team 2's turn they rolled a 7. Quickly counting out the spaces, Tristan's hand hovered over the pink headquarter. "It would be really great if we could get this," Vincent said nonchalantly.

Blaine pressed back against him and said as cheerfully as he could muster, "Better do it then."

Nick drew the card and groaned after looking at it. "Not fucking fair. Blaine, if you don't get this you're kicked out of the Warblers. I'm not even kidding." He sighed and as monotonously as possible read "Who knows?/It's only just out of reach/down the-"

And Blaine was grinning because he would know this if he was asleep.

_"Could be!_  
_Who knows?_  
_There's something due any day;_  
_I will know right away,_  
_Soon as it shows._  
_It may come cannonballing down through the sky_  
_Gleam in its eye_  
_Bright as a rose!"_He burst out singing, smile stretching across his face. "Something's Coming. West Side Story. Sung by the marvelous, brilliant, and drop-dead gorgeous Tony," he said triumphantly.

"Blaine played Tony last year," Jeff stage whispered which was muffled by the whooping that started up when Dean rolled a 6, bringing them to the center. Their luck ended there because Simon picked country as their category.

"We'll get it next time," Vincent said confidently, passing the dice over. They didn't though, unable to navigate their way back to the center before losing their turn. On the brightside Sebastian's team wasn't making much progress either. They had played another three rounds before Jeff let out a triumphant yell, finally managing to roll the 2 they needed to get back to the center.

"Classics," Ethan decided, weighing his options. Frey had proven to be somewhat knowledgably when it came to Broadway and Lucas wasn't hopeless when it came to country, which were the downfalls for the other teams. Random could either be some obscure Civil War marching song or something Disney, which was way too risky at this point. But they had continuously been struggling with classics.

"We're on the road to romance/that's safe to say/ but let's make all the stops along the way."

"Umm…" Jeff stalled. Frey was vaguely humming something; it didn't really sound like a classic, but for all any of them knew it was. Lucas was equally as lost.

"Dean Martin? Tony Bennett? Astaire?" He frantically guessed.

"30 seconds," Trent called.

"Fucking… Hey baby what's your hurry/relax and don't you worry/we're gonna fall in love," Sebastian snapped. "Frank Sinatra. _Nice 'n' Easy,_off his 1960 album of the same name. Written by Alan and Marilyn Bergman." Angrily he pushed himself up and strode out of the room.

"Umm…" Jeff said again.

"He's right," Dominic had plucked the card from Ethan's hand and was reading it over.

"Yay?" Frey said, looking around the room for confirmation.

"-the fuck?" Lucas asked.

"I'm just going to…" Vincent stood up and chased after Sebastian. Part of Blaine felt like he should follow after him, but most of him was just really fucking confused. It seemed to be the general consensus.

"Congratulations Team 5," Nick finally said, attempting to return to room to some since or normalcy. "Er, Frey, as the only person on the team audition tomorrow you get to pick your spot in the line-up." It sounded more like a question than it should have, but it was more than anyone else was saying.

"Yay?" Frey repeated.

"Yay," the returning Warblers agreed.

"So yes, tomorrow," Trent finally seemed to be coming back into himself. "Tomorrow. You will be auditioning again." He blinked a few times and shook his head, like a dog trying to rid its ears of water.

"You will all need to be in the Warbler room at 11.30 am. As mentioned yesterday, we are requesting that tomorrow we will be hearing nothing but your beautiful voices. And we expect you to come in full uniform." On this they had been fairly lenient. Tonight, obviously, no one was in their uniforms. Pretending you were on your way back from the bathroom at 4.30 in the morning was a lot less convincing when you were wearing dress shoes and a tie. Auditions yesterday had been a range of people either coming from or headed to sports practice to Blaine who had put his uniform as soon as he finished unpacking and only took it off begrudgingly at bedtime.

"And now, if my fellow Warblers could join me at the front of the room?" They all stood up and arranged themselves between the door and the circle of potentials. There was a moment of confusion as they compensated for Sebastian's absence but it was solved with minimal shuffling. Nick, Dominic, and Blaine were kneeling on the floor while they other seven stood around them. "This is a most ancient-"

"From the 1970s," Ben interrupted.

"- silly little Warbler tradition," Trent continued like nothing had happened. "It, like many of our other traditions, is top secret. Anyone who feels they cannot keep this secret feel free to leave now."

Jeff muttered, "We will hold it against you," but not loud enough to be heard.

"Puuum, puuum, puuum," Dominic and Ethan began to sing in their deep basses.

The rest joined in, "_There's a sad sort of clanging from the clock in the hall_  
_And the bells in the steeple too,_  
_And up in the nursery an absurd little bird_  
_is popping out to say cuckoo."_

Blaine, Dominic, and Nick were swaying. All three of them were desperately trying to keep straight faces, which was really hard to do while they were rocking back and forth and cuckoo-ing. One day people would write epics about their struggles. Not Dominic's though, because he was failing miserably if the cracking of his voice and the shaking of his body was anything to go by. The tragic hero, maybe, who fought gallantly but fell in face of insurmountable foes.

By minute two he was really starting to regret his adorableness because his legs were cramping up and he was going to have bruises on his knees for weeks. He tried to subtly shift as fellow Warblers delivered their lines and slipped out of the room. Finally only the three of them were left still crouched on the floor.

He put on his cutest and most charming smile and stretched his arm above his head, yawning as widely as his mouth would stretch.

_"The sun, has gone to bed and so must I,"_ he tipped himself over, falling into Nick and Dominic's open arms. Slowly they stood up and for a terrifying moment he was sure he was going to end up pitching forward and smashing his face on the floor. They steadied themselves and began backing out of the room, making sure to leave the door open a crack so their _goodbyes_wafted in through the door.

Then they were running down the hall, giggling until they got to the middle of the tunnel where the other boys were waiting for them.

"God, for a little guy you sure are heavy," Dominic grunted. And suddenly he really was pitching forward, although it was mostly expected this time so he managed to land (almost entirely) on his feet.

Normally his role was given to whoever was the youngest of the group. But it was his punishment, supposedly, for abandoning them for a year. It was fair, as far as punishments went, but he still hated them a little for it. Trent especially, who was looking like Christmas had come early.

"I hate you all."

"We love you Gretl," they cooed, dog piling him in a crushing hug.

Tom pulled away first, leaning towards the outhouse and listening hard. "I think they're coming. I think they're cominggg." He warned.

"Brave bunch this year," Jeff observed. "Last year they sat in there for like twenty minutes." Then they were breaking apart and chanting _run, run, run_ as they stampeded down the rest of the tunnel and up through the dorms, branching off as they reached their halls.

* * *

**Song at the end was So Long, Farwell from The Sound of Music. **

**Songs, in general, for this story are found either by randomly pressing play on my iTunes or by going to goggle and typing in songs and seeing what comes up. If anyone has any suggestions/something you'd really like to see, let me know. I'm leaning for towards the popular side of things, just because in the show that's what the Warblers tend to do. But if something is really good, I'd love to have that too.**

**All of your reviews are love and you're definitely encouraging me to keep updating on a regular basis. And all of you who are reading and not reviewing I love you tooooo. Hope you're happy with how this is going. :-)**


	11. Chapter 9

**So the original plan was to have this posted yesterday. So I set myself up in my living room, turned on the TV and then didn't look away for the next 12 hours. Because I totally forgot about my inability to do anything else if there are sports happening in front of me. So apologies to anyone I lied to about when this would be coming out.**

**I have no idea what updating for the next two weeks is going to look like because the OLYMPICS are taking over my life. I don't think I've tweeted about anything else and I have to force myself to post other things on tumblr. Hopefully my updating schedule won't be too altered, but I won't make any promises.**

**Also, I know Sebastian is different from his S3 self, but it is now about 5 months after **_**On My Way**_** and he was already beginning to change then. **

**On that note, have some boys.**

* * *

Blaine was determined to not only not be late for auditions; he was going to be early. It hadn't actually solely been his idea. Nick might have sent him a teasing text about what a year at public school did to his ability to tell time. But that didn't make him any less determined. He was going to be the first one there; ready and waiting with a million-watt smile on his face when the rest came stumbling in.

Or maybe not the first, he thought, hesitating on the threshold of the senior commons where two figures lay dramatically draped on the couches. One was in full uniform and the other in running clothes, both with faces hidden under awkwardly sized decorative pillows. He cleared his throat to announce his presence. "You guys okay?" He asked tentatively, unsure of exactly who he was talking to and whether they were that hung over from last night.

The smaller boy on the further coach moaned in acknowledgment, struggling into a sitting position. "Blaine," he groggily greeted. "You're early right? Because I still need to shower."

"Yeah." Blaine glanced at his watch. "You still have about 20 minutes." Watching as Vincent pushed himself to his feet and proceeded to contort his body into a truly impressive stretch, he asked again, "You sure you guys are alright? You looked a little dead."

Vincent shrugged and continued to stretch. "Upperclassmen decided today was cross-country initiation. We were woken up at 6.30, made to clean all their rooms and gym lockers and then did a sprint-till-you-drop." Blaine winced sympathetically, that sounded like hell on any day, never mind one where you only got two hours sleep. "Sebastian had it worse," he nodded his head to the still passed out figure on the couch. "Captain has to run a mile more than the last frosh. And I don't think he slept at all last night," he whispered confidentially.

Staring hard at him, Blaine couldn't help but wonder what, exactly, was going on between Sebastian and this adorable, sweet, _youn_g, baby freshman. He wasn't 100% sure about the consent laws of Ohio, but at best this whole thing was dubiously legal. Should he say something? Vincent was 13, for crying out loud.

He was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he hardly registered Vincent slipping from the room, leaving him alone with a sleeping Sebastian. Sighing, he perched himself on the edge of the coffee table and cautiously nudged Sebastian's shoulder, knowing he wouldn't want the other guys to walk in on him sleeping. "Time to wake up," he sang under his breath.

"Go away, Vince," Sebastian muttered, batting ineffectually at Blaine's hand.

Grunting in annoyance, Blaine kept up his shaking. "Your boyfriend left a while ago. I think he went to shower."

"Fuck," grumbled Sebastian, blinking his eyes open. "Blaine? What are you doing here?" For a minute he struggled to at least lounge in a more dignified position but seemed to give it up as a bad job and just flopped back against the cushions. "And no need to be jealous of phantoms," he offered up a lazy grin. After a too long moment of confused silence, he explained. "I don't have a boyfriend," and grinned as Blaine's checks flushed.

"I really need coffee. Do you want coffee?" He babbled, jumping up from the table and backing away towards the door.

"God, yes," Sebastian moaned, a bit too pornographically, in Blaine's personal opinion. "I will give you my first born and $500 if you get me one too."

By the time he returned with two steaming cups in his hands, he was feeling much more composed.

"Thanks," Sebastian murmured. "I owe you." He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his wallet.

"What?" Blaine spluttered. "I don't actually want your first born. Or your money. It's just a cup of coffee, and I was getting myself one anyway," he continued to ramble.

"Pity, you'd make a much better father," his lips twisted in a sardonic mockery of a smile. "Little Lucy will be so disappointed." He pressed a handful of quarters into Blaine's hand and then turned his full attention to the coffee, leaving Blaine to hyperventilate a little.

"We have some early birds, I see," Ben called out as the three council members walked into the room, making both of them start in surprise.

"We commend your punctuality, gentlemen," Nick said, winking cheekily at Blaine. "We hadn't expected such a crowd to be gathered so early."

"There's two of us. That's hardly a crowd."

Nick waved his hand in dismissal of Blaine's irrefutable logic as Ben asked, "So what did you guys think of last night? All the guys seemed really cool."

"I'm out if Dean's in. I don't care if solid gold comes out of his mouth when he sings," Sebastian commented. He was sitting up and looking much more alert, although Blaine wasn't sure if that was due to the caffeine or the presence of the council.

"He did seem a little clueless," Nick said judiciously. "But not that bad." Next to him Trent was clearly biting his tongue to keep himself from saying something unnecessarily argumentative. Apparently he and Nick had that talk then.

Remembering the all too familiar grimace of disgust on Dean's face at the indication that he was gay, Blaine quietly said, "I'm not sure he'd be a good asset to the Warblers either, or that I'd feel comfortable working with him." It was enough to give them pause. Blaine liked everybody, or was at least willing to try. Sebastian didn't seem surprised though.

"What he's trying to say," he interrupted, "is that he's a homophobic asshole."

"Is this true?" The look of concern on Nick's face was almost overwhelming. They had most of their classes together their freshman year, so it had been Nick who had shown him around Dalton, making sure he knew where everything was and eventually coaxing him into auditioning for a recently opened spot in the Warblers. Consequently, it had also been Nick who noticed how he jumped at every loud noise and the way the first thing Blaine did when he entered a room was make note of all the exits.

The scrutinizing gazes of the council members caused Blaine to squirm. Logically, he knew nothing about the situation should be making him uncomfortable, but he couldn't help feeling a little bad that he had just completely destroyed Dean's chances.

Blaine shrugged. "I liked Simon though. And his other audition was decent," he said in an attempt to change the subject.

"Why so serious?" Jeff's teasing voice asked as he made his way into the room, Tristan and Dominic in tow.

"Blaine was just telling us about how much of a homophobic douche Dean is," Trent spit. They all ignored Blaine's feeble protests that Sebastian had said that, not him. He gave up on them pretty quickly because they were kind of true. When Dean finally entered the room, he was a little surprised he didn't spontaneously combust under the heated glares everyone was giving him. He also didn't think it was coincidence when he was given the dreaded first spot for his audition.

At least most of them had the decency to pretend like they were listening to him, even if the beat Luke was tapping out had nothing to do with the song they were hearing and Dominic had that same look of over-concentration he wore during so many of their biology classes. Jeff looked like he was taking careful notes, but was actually sketching Dean getting eaten by a dragon.

"Thank you," Trent said brusquely as the final note rang out. "Chad?"

The rest of the auditions went much more smoothly, although Blaine couldn't help but notice that the dragon drawing got added to as Braedon choked his way through Daniel Bedingfield.

It wasn't Rachel's failed NYADA audition painful, but it was depressingly close. Sebastian looked like he was forcibly restraining himself from telling the poor boy to just stop. Clearly, this was just a case of nerves because his other audition had been really good. Blaine didn't know if it was because his audience had doubled or if their blazered appearances just made it that much more formal, but whatever it was, it would be frowned down on by the council.

It was made all the worse by the fact that Frey was immediately after him and he absolutely killed his song. He didn't yet have the confidence needed for lead, but give it a year and he could be there.

"I think I speak for all of us, when I say we were very impressed by all of you," Trent said following the last song. "And we wish that we had more than three spots to fill." He sighed dramatically, like it was his deepest life regret that they couldn't accept everyone. "For those of you who don't make the cut, we hope that it doesn't deter you from auditioning again next year, because you all have magnificent potential."

Trent's little speech was followed by lots of handshaking and general well wishing and there was a lot of awkward hesitancy, because the rest of the meeting was taking place in a Top Secret location (Nick's room) but Nyko lived right down the hall from him. In the end it was decided that the only possibly solution was if they, one by one, James Bonded their way to the second floor of Connors.

There were varying levels of success. Jeff was sporting a bleeding nose from his attempts to scale a wall and Blaine had lost his tie. Sebastian had actually been caught, because Josh and Nyko had stopped by the Commons to get a coffee and ended up trailing behind him. (His idea of James Bonding it was to casually saunter from Wexner to Connors and then straight up to the second floor. No one commented on the fact that he was doing it wrong.) When he caught sight of a confused looking Nyko he just rolled his eyes and let himself into Nick's room.

The process was an unnecessarily complicated one. First there was the big group discussion, which primarily focused on the two audition rounds and then the underclassmen had the opportunity to share any individual observations they had made on the candidates. Theoretically it was all supposed to be done objectively and when protocol was followed it sounded more like a report than a discussion. Then everyone who hadn't been a member for at least two years left while the senior members stayed and discussed the character of the candidates. They then held a vote which, ultimately, didn't matter because the decision was up to the council.

Everything was going surprisingly fine in that everyone, for the most part, was on the same page regarding how the auditions went. Dean and Braedon weren't even talked about and it was unanimously agreed that Frey was the strongest candidate. Ethan had just finished recounting a conversation he had with Chad during the pizza party and the junior Warblers were getting up to leave.

"Should Sebastian stay?" Tristan asked, thoughtfully. "I mean, technically he's still a junior Warbler, because he only has one year of experience. But he was captain last year. That should count for something."

Trent glared. "The rules are clear. Only senior Warblers."

"Besides," Jeff said coolly, "I don't really trust him as a judge of character." There was a general and unnecessary rumble of agreement. In typical Sebastian fashion, he seemed entirely unperturbed by the proceedings, which only served to further irritate the others. Calmly he rose to his feet and swept from the room.

"I think you're being a little unfair to Sebastian," said Blaine quietly as soon as the door had closed behind him.

"You weren't here last year," Lucas practically spat at him. "You might be the big shot on campus, but you don't know what it was like. He betrayed us."

"Last time I checked, I was the one he put in the hospital, not any of you," Blaine found himself fuming. "It was my friends he was threatening and it was our friendship that he just walked away from. Every single fucking unorthodox, ridiculous, illegal, idiotic thing he did, he did because he wanted you guys to get to Nationals. Hate him all you want for it, but don't pretend like just because I wasn't at here, I wasn't just as affected or betrayed."

Not even caring that the most important part of the meeting hadn't happened yet, he hurried from the room. He didn't know who he was angrier at; himself for just thinking that he'd get back to Dalton and everything would be hunky-dory, or the Warblers for being so immature and naïve.

Sebastian was incapable of being a properly functioning human being so he was a total dick half the time and he probably really didn't think about whether his tactics were right or wrong, just on the basis of how effective they would be. He wasn't a dapper, Dalton gentleman. He was an immoral, vicious bitch and he would probably go farther than all of them. Maybe he had betrayed their noble sensibilities, but he had never betrayed them, Blaine thought angrily and he shucked off his uniform and pulled on his workout clothes.

They, however, had betrayed Blaine. Lead by Sebastian, they followed like sheep. Any thoughts of 'once a Warbler, always a Warbler,' unceremoniously thrown out the window as they plotted to hurt his friends and as they, literally, turned their backs and walked away as he lay yelling on the parking garage floor. And whatever amends they had made with New Directions, they never made with him.

He threw open the door to the gym and made a beeline for the punching bags. Automatically he groped for the bag that should have been at his side, only to realize he had stormed off without it, which meant he wouldn't be able to wrap his hands. Normally that would be enough to deter him, but fuck he really just wanted to punch something. So he did.

"Careful, killer. You're going to hurt yourself," a smug voice informed him. "Here." Something soft hit his back and he paused mid-swing to turn and look at the navy wrap that lay rolled up at his feet.

Stooping down to pick it up, he tilted his head in curiosity and asked, "You box?"

Sebastian shrugged. "I use the bag sometimes. It's good cross training."

Blaine tossed the wrap back and forth between his hands, wincing when he caught sight of how raw and bloody his knuckles were from the canvas of the bag. Although he'd never, personally, had worse, he had seen worse. A lot of the less experienced, tougher men at the gym refused to wrap. He flexed his left hand to test the sting. Not too bad. The right had fared worse, though. "Thanks," he said regretfully, throwing the wrap back. "I should probably stop though." They both watched a trickle of blood as it rolled down his arm.

"Come running with me."

The thing about talking to Sebastian was it always left him feeling just a little unbalanced. He had a tendency to just say things, apropos to nothing, like they were the most logical thing in the world. It didn't matter that most of the time he was right; Blaine had just been thinking that he wished he could keep going because he wasn't done being angry yet and he just wanted _more_. It was just really unnerving to feel a step behind in his own thoughts.

"Unless you'd rather go sit in the chapel for two hours and listen to our glorious head drone on." Smirking, Sebastian turned on his heel and walked out of the gym, not once bothering to look behind him. Blaine wasn't sure if it was because he just assumed he would be followed, or if he didn't really care.

They set off at a grueling pace. After the first half mile Blaine was starting to feel embarrassingly out of shape and he was doubting his ability to make it more than two miles if they kept at it like this. How Sebastian was managing, he had absolutely no idea because he had practically been dead that morning.

"Sorry," Sebastian apologized, over Blaine's gasping breaths, "used to running with the team." He slowed himself down to a speed he deemed would be more comfortable for Blaine. "And it's been a long time since I've run with someone pocket sized." Just in case Blaine had forgotten their 6 inch height difference. He hadn't. But he was too busy being grateful at the fact they weren't sprinting anymore to be too angry about it.

At mile four, Blaine found himself wondering if Sebastian would be offended if he suggested that maybe he would make the best coach in the world.

"Only ¾ a mile more," Sebastian coaxed, interrupting his thoughts. "There's a bitch of a hill coming up, but then the last leg is all downhill." He said it in the manner of someone who was clearly distracted by their own thoughts, but knew it needed to be heard.

Blaine wondered how many times in the past two weeks he had said something similar to the cross country team. He could see why they had made him captain. It shouldn't have surprised Blaine that he could be like this, because one thing Sebastian excelled at was telling people what they wanted to hear, but it did.

"I've always found," panted Sebastian as they crested the hill, "that if I ran long enough and fast enough, there was nothing I couldn't escape." Blaine wasn't sure if the facial expression he was making was a smile or a grimace. "Of course," he added wryly, "once you start running, you never stop."

He wanted to ask why Sebastian ran, either literally or metaphorically. Wondered if it was worse than what followed anyone else and if it was why he was such an asshole, or if he had just been born that way. Even if Sebastian wasn't picking up speed to start the sprint for the final stretch it would have been pointless to ask. Sebastian rarely talked about himself beyond passing comments.

"Make sure you stretch really well. Now and before you go to bed. Probably when you get up tomorrow too," Sebastian said when he finally came to a panting stop.

"Yeah. I haven't run that much in," he paused to think it over, "years. I probably won't be able to walk tomorrow."

"I know that feeling," said with the lecherous smile that Blaine was so used to seeing. He was glad his face was already red from the sprint. Somehow, despite his tenure at Dalton and the months he spent talking to Sebastia daily comments like that still caught him off guard.

"Thank you for this." Blaine started stretching out his burning hamstrings. "I really needed to clear my head."

Sebastian h'mmed contemplatively. "Convocation should have everyone bored to tears in the chapel by now. We should be fine if we go through the library." Often it seemed like Sebastian didn't pay attention to half of what was said to him, but experience had taught Blaine that it just meant he was still deciding what to think and it would be randomly brought up at some later point in time. Assuming they were talking again and this wasn't just a onetime thing.

Despite the stretching, his muscles were already beginning to scream at him and by the time he made it back to his room all he wanted to do was get in a steaming hot shower.

No such luck, he sighed, as he opened his door to see Nick sitting on his bed, flipping through one of his magazines.

"We decided on Vincent, Simon, and Frey. Trent really wanted Gabriel but Ben and I found his song choices uninspiring," he said without looking up.

"Good choices. Simon's a little green, but he's enthusiastic. He'll probably work harder than most of us combined."

"And Vince knows how to write music, so he can start helping with arranging right away."

"You must be relieved," Blaine grinned. Teaching people how to arrange was often a long and painful process, especially if they had no previous history with writing music. When they first tried to teach Jeff, it had ended in him and Nick not talking to each other for two days. "I'd say we have a good shot at Nationals this year."

"Me too." Nick returned the grin. "Of course, I've been thinking that for the past two years."

"We'll be there again. And this time we'll win," promised Blaine. It had been a hard fall, going from finishing 6th one year to not even making it to New York the next.

"Assuming we figure out how to get along." Nick's annoyance was palatable and Blaine felt a pang of sympathy for him, as frustrating as it was for the rest of them, it had to be even worse for Nick and Ben. "Are you sure you're okay? With us?"

Blinking in surprise, Blaine took a minute to consider it. He nodded slowly. "Yeah." It was in his nature to forgive people and he had talked enough with David and Nick to understand why it had all happened. At the end of the day this is where he wanted to be, with them because they were good guys, some of the best guys he knew, who had just gotten caught up in Sebastian's seductive promises. "We're good," he added because Nick looked like he didn't quite believe him. "It's been a long week. You know my temper."

"How's Kurt doing? Liking New York?"

Blaine shrugged. "I haven't really talked to him in a couple of days. I keep missing our Skype dates," he admitted. "But he seems to really be enjoying himself."

"Careful with that," warned Nick. "We don't want another Wes incident on our hands." Wes had gotten so wrapped up in Yale life his freshman year that he ended up almost completely ignoring his girlfriend. She hadn't taken it well and Wes now had some of the best psycho ex stories Blaine had ever heard.

"We both just need to settle in. We'll be fine. It'll be fine." Smiling broadly, he pulled off his shirt and chucked it at Nick's head.

"What's not fine is the fact that you reek. You seriously need to shower."

Huffing, Blaine threw his shorts at Nick's face too.


	12. Chapter 10

**I am so sorry its been so long. But my ability to use my brain has officially disappeared. There are three main contributing factors to this.  
1) the olympics. I haven't been this excited about sports since the Rockies made it to the world series in 2007. **

**2) effing Ryan Murphy and his deleted scenes. I almost died when the box scene was released. And then felt really bad for breaking them up here because Blaine just loves him so much. So it took me like all week to get over that. Then the moment I sit down to start writing this effing I Want You Back was posted. And I just can't even. Grant pelvic thrusting just does things to me. **

**3) this one is much less fun. I hurt my back a bit. Its nothing serious, but I haven't been able to workout all week. And I'm basically addicted. If I don't get at least 30 minutes of cardio in a day my brain stops functioning.**

* * *

Trying to figure out, what, exactly, he had spent all of his time doing last year wasn't really productive, but it was a lot more appealing than trying to tackle his truly massive pile of homework. He couldn't recall ever struggling this much to keep up and they hadn't even been in class for two full weeks.

At McKinley four hours would have been enough time to finish his work for most of the week. About three hours ago he and his laptop had settled into the library and he still had a terrifying twenty page article he needed to read for neuro and he wanted to at least start his English. Thank God for block scheduling, because just the thought of his AP Chem textbook made him want to cry a little.

He was sure it hadn't been this bad his sophomore year. He very clearly remembered being bored to tears as his teachers spent the first couple days of classes going over the syllabus and doing stupid introductions so they would all feel comfortable with their fellow classmates. They were assigned a book report on one of their summer reading books, but they had like a month to do it in. Now he was being asked to write a five page essay comparing the themes in _The Sound and the_ Fury to the ones in _As I Lay Dying_. It was due Tuesday. He hadn't actually finished either book yet.

The only person he hated more than William Faulkner right now was Mrs. Myerson, his English teacher.

It wasn't actually his teachers' fault, he recognized. They probably assigned very manageable workloads every night. He just kept putting off getting it done and maybe hadn't taken his summer reading very seriously. Which is why he was spending his Friday evening hunkered down in the library, catching up on everything he didn't get done during the week.

Dropping his hand into his bag, he groped around for his copy of _The Sound and the Fury_. It wasn't there. Sighing, he pushed himself to his feet and hoped that the library had a copy, because he really didn't want to walk all the way back to Connors to get his. He was in luck, there was a copy being held on reserve downstairs. Wearily he trudged down to the first floor. No one was at the desk when he got there. Patiently he waited for the librarian to return then he had to wait some more as she ransacked the entire reserved section because someone had misplaced the book.

When he got back to his table there was a cup sitting on it. Groaning, he tried not to smell the coffee wafting from it because he really didn't have time to go get his own and he was also about 5 seconds away from falling asleep on his books. He walked over to the surrounding aisles, trying to figure out who had left it there. The stacks were deserted.

Sighing in annoyance he decided to just move the cup to a different table and whenever the owner came back he would kindly inform him of its relocation. It wasn't like the library was a hopping hotbed of activity at the moment. He'd even put it at a table where he could see it, just in case someone tried to steal it.

Returning to the table, he picked up the mug. His name was on it; written clearly and carefully. _Blaine A._ He had the best friends in the entire world, although he felt a little guilty that he couldn't figure out which one left this for him. Nick would have been his first guess, but he and Jeff had left campus for a concert hours ago. Vincent, maybe. They were only just becoming friends but he was sweet and thoughtful like that. And they were following each other on twitter, so he probably saw Blaine's 300 tweets about how he was dying in a deluge of homework.

He took a tentative first sip, because if slyly trying to steal Kurt's drinks taught him anything it was that you never knew what was lurking under that flimsy plastic lid.

It was heaven in a cup, tasting of cinnamon and with an undercurrent of- he moaned a little- cayenne pepper. Not even Kurt knew that he like cayenne in his coffee. In fact, there was only one person in the world that did and he was the one who introduced Blaine to the drink.

It had been an inadvertent introduction, admittedly because Blaine really did have such a thing about stealing people's drinks and whereas Kurt's were running about 50/50 in terms of drinkability, Sebastian's always tasted fantastic. He was much harder to steal from, however, because he tended to clutch at his like it was a lifeline. But the third time he had been dragged to this obnoxiously chintzy coffeehouse in Columbus, Blaine had managed and had nearly died in an orgasmic blaze of pleasure.

It wasn't something he would drink every day. But if there was anything that could get him through the last 60 pages it was this.

At 9 the head librarian, nicknamed Roth by the students, came by to tell him the library was closing for the night. He looked a little bewildered at the interaction, like it had never happened before and he wasn't exactly clear on the protocol for it. Kicking students out on Fridays probably wasn't par for the course, Blaine mused. As serious as Dalton boys were about their studies, they were even more serious about their free time.

He might be the lamest kid at Dalton, but at least he wasn't failing, he thought to himself as he got in the shower. And now he knew that he could not, in fact, continue waiting until 10 every night to start his homework. Their two hour mandatory evening study hall would from here on out, actually be used for studying and not for texting or watching youtube clips of cats.

When he finally emerged from his shower he was feeling much more relaxed and confident in himself. It had been a long day, and an even longer week, but he knew all he needed was a good night's sleep and the world would be a better and brighter place tomorrow. Walking into his room he heard the cheerful jingle of his ringtone.

Excitedly he grabbed for his phone and gingerly held it next to his ear, not wanting to get it wet.

"Hello jailbait boyfriend."

"Kurt!" Blaine cried happily, shifting his phone so it was cradled between his ear and his shoulder. "One sec. I just got out of the shower."

"Take your time," he said, giggling at the sounds of Blaine hurriedly drying himself off and trying to pull on his pajama pants one handed. "Don't hurt yourself. That would be an embarrassing obituary. I'd have to deny knowing you."

"You're mean. I would never deny knowing you. Even if you were wearing a Michigan shirt at a Buckeyes game."

"I'm honored?"

"You should be." As far as he was concerned it was the highest of compliments. The fact that he would even still be willing to talk to Kurt if he was wearing Michigan clothing spoke volumes. That was love and commitment.

"Want to get on Skype? I only called because you weren't online."

"Already on it," he assured. As soon as he had pulled his pants on he had pulled out his laptop and started it back up. "Just waiting for it to pick up the wireless." Kurt groaned. Dalton wireless was notoriously finicky on the upper floors of the dorms and he still hadn't gotten around to buying a new Ethernet cord. "Okay. I'm on." He hung up the phone as the obnoxious shriek of Skype's ring filled the room."

"Hey, handsome." Kurt grin was pixilated and currently the right corner of his mouth was where his nose should be, but it was still the most perfect thing Blaine had seen all week.

"I love you," he blurted because how could he not when it was all that he was feeling? "We can never go this long without Skyping again. Ever." Each had been so wrapped up in adjusting to their new lives that neither really had any idea what was going on with the other. Far from Kurt's promise that they would Skype every day, they had only done so twice since Blaine moved back into Dalton.

"I know. So tell me everything. Have things gotten better with the Warblers?"

Awkward hadn't even began to describe the first official Warbler practice. Trent, it seemed, had completely changed his mind and decided the best way to deal with all the problems the Warblers had encountered in the past year was to, essentially, pretend like they hadn't happened. It was basically what the rest of the group had been doing anyways, the only difference being that they didn't give lengthy speeches about the changes that needed to occur going forward.

It had been a surreal and uncomfortable forty minutes in which their captain had engaged in a self-inflicted game of taboo as he tried to outline their past flaws without placing any blame on either Sebastian or Blaine. So many euphemisms were used that by the end of it not even Nick really understood what he was talking about.

From what Blaine managed to gather, their overall flaw of the past two years was that they had stopped looking at the year as a whole and had broken it down to the individual competitions. They needed to start the year off thinking about how they would win Nationals. After that the focus would be on how to beat the reigning national champions (here Blaine's heart had swelled a bit in pride) and it was unlikely they would face them before the spring.

Practices would be closed and they wouldn't be doing any outside performing until after Sectionals. The other choirs knew what they sounded like with Blaine, and they knew what they sounded like with the Sebastian, but they had never heard them together. (Neither had the Warblers, Tristan had pointed out only to be hushed by Ben.) And song choice was going to be crucial, so songs needed to be decided on with the judging panel in mind. He wasn't really sure what, exactly, that meant but he assumed it had to do with singing gender appropriate songs and not sharing a duet with the boy you had just started dating.

From where he was sitting he noticed Sebastian's shoulders tense more at every awkward lull. He half expected the ex-captain to just stand up and commandeer the meeting. Hell, he probably would have helped. But Sebastian didn't say anything. He just stared out the window. If it hadn't been for the set of his shoulder's Blaine would have thought he wasn't even listening.

There was just something about Sebastian being so docile that was unnerving. It was like he just stumbled across an extremely poisonous snake that was just lying there; either there was something extremely wrong with it, or it was lulling you into a false sense of security and just waiting to strike. He wasn't sure if he was the only one who noticed, or just the only one who cared. Possibly, he was just the only one who was still awake.

At long last, Nick cleared his throat, in the midst of Trent stumbling through how they needed to make sure that, this year, the paid special attention to how their actions (both individually and as a whole) reflected on the group. 'I think,' he said, not even looking abashed at interrupting, 'that we've pretty much covered everything. And that we all understand what is at stake this year.' He chanced a glance at Trent, but far from looking annoyed, he actually was looking grateful that someone had taken over for him.

'Everyone make sure they have their schedules into Sebastian, including your extracurriculars. If you don't have that information right now, it is essential that you get it to him as soon as possible. We will not be meeting tomorrow, but we will on Thursday and Friday. A final schedule of our practice times for September will be available by Sunday night. If there's nothing else...?'

Everyone began to gather up their bags, the dismissal implicit.

'Actually, if I may?' Blaine cleared his throat and half stood up. 'I just have something quick I wanted to say.' Trent looked surprised, but nodded. All eye turned to focus on him as he straightened all the way up. 'I know we had some difficulties last year. And I would just like to formally apologize for my part in all of that. I don't, for a minute, regret transferring, but I do regret the hurt it caused all of you. And to those of you who weren't involved with everything that happened last year,' he paused to make eye contact with Frey, Vincent, and Simon, 'I apologize for all the tension you've been exposed to thus far. That's not who were are-'

'Unless it's audition week,' Jeff interrupted causing a chuckle to ripple through the room.

Bowing his head in acquiescence, Blaine continued, 'and I hope we can put everything behind us, so that we all have a fantastic and successful year.'

'Well said, Senior Warbler Anderson. Very well said.' An echoing rumble voiced a consensus amongst the other Warblers. He pretended to notice that they didn't actually return his sentiments, only agreed with them. Years of living with Cooper and his time dating Kurt had long since accustomed him to being the first to yield in an argument.

"Good," he replied to Kurt, after considering it for a minute. "Much better." He was on good terms with all of them and had been enjoying getting to know not only the new boys, but also the ones who had joined last year. Excepting class time and his recent sojourn in the library, he had hardly been without a fellow Warbler since Trent, Dom, Jeff, and Ethan came knocking on his door.

"How's Sebastian?" The question was more of a sneer than anything else.

"Fine. Weirdly quiet. We haven't talked much. Trent's threatening to make him sing Backstreet Boys for Regionals."

"I would pay to see that," he laughed unkindly but the tension behind his eyes decreased.

"How are you? Any progress on the job front?" He asked quickly because he didn't want to dwell on Sebastian right now and he especially didn't want to talk about it with Kurt.

"Actually," he was trying to suppress a grin, "there might be something."

"What? The coffee shop? Because you would make the world's cutest barista."

"Even better," he gushed. "I'm sure you've heard that NYADA is basically a cult?" Blaine nodded. They hadn't exactly been the words Rachel had used as she enthusiastically spoke of her new school, but it was very much the impression he came away with. "Well they've all become best friends over night. So she was talking to Dean and it turns out that his sister is looking for an assistant. And through the glory of nepotism and connections I've got an interview on Tuesday."

"An assistant? That sounds exciting. Where does this sister work? An off-Broadway theater? Or a real Broadway theater?" He was trying to think of places that would cause Kurt to be so excited that he was practically vibrating from joy.

"Better."

"That's your dream. Nothing would be better, except maybe Vogue." Blaine laughed.

Kurt squealed, "She's a designer for Vogue." He clapped his hands together.

"What? Really? Wow! That's fantastic! Kurt, that's really, really amazing."

Blaine settled onto his bed and listened to Kurt ramble on about his (potential) new job and what he knew about his (potential) future employer. He had received mixed reviews from Rachel about her, because her brother had a typical sibling contempt for her, but Rachel seemed to think she had hung the stars in the sky. He didn't really know which one to believe more, because Rachel was maybe a little infatuated with Dean, but having spent so long listening to Blaine bitch about Cooper he also understood brotherly bias.

They talked for nearly an hour before Rachel came bursting into Kurt's room to drag him off to a party. She and Blaine chatted while Kurt flew around the room trying to get ready. It was his first college party and Blaine thought it was adorable how nervous he was about it. Every other outfit was held up for their consideration and he fretted when Rachel told him to ditch the top hat for the night, but eventually was convinced that there would be other occasions for such attire.

"What do you think? Would you take me home?" He asked with a wink, striking several poses.

"I will be taking you home," Rachel said with a laugh.

"And I'd take you home no matter what you were wearing," Blaine said, regretful of the fact that he wouldn't be taking him home. Or even seeing him anytime soon. Kurt beamed at him and wriggled happily.

"You have anything exciting planned for tonight?" Rachel asked.

"Nothing. There's a big concert tonight that most of the guys went to. I might text Vince and see if he wants to watch a movie or something. Or go to bed early. I spent all afternoon in the library."

"Oh, Ohio. How I don't miss you," Kurt sighed melodramatically.

"Think fondly of me while you're out living the glamorous life," Blaine replied, equally dramatically. They said their goodbyes and Blaine stared despondently at the screen for several long minutes after Kurt had hung up. It was really hard not to be jealous of all the fantastic things that were happening to his boyfriend, his own activities felt nearly obsolete in comparison. Today he'd gone to class, practiced harmonizing, and struggled to read 50 pages of a book he couldn't care less about. Kurt had wrangled a dream job opportunity and was now on his way to some exciting house party with his best friend.

Some days were less fun than others. Just going to bed right now was starting to seem more and more like a good idea. His mind was almost made up when his phone buzzed.

**From: Vincent  
bastian just left to go get hammered & hook up with some skeezeballs. you up to anything? **

Blaine very much wasn't scowling at the use of such a familiar nickname. It had taken him almost a month before he had started calling Sebastian 'Seb', and another few weeks after that before Sebastian stopped scowling and started smiling at the name.

Despite his confused feelings over the nature of Sebastian and Vincent's budding friendship (although it was increasingly starting to seem like budding was no longer an accurate description. Fully bloomed might be closer.) Blaine really liked the boy and they shared similar tastes in romantic comedies. It wasn't every day you found a Dalton boy who could watch a Jennifer Aniston movie without making extremely lewd comments every time she came on screen and that was not a friendship to be discarded for petty reasons.

**Popcorn and Jen? **He replied.

**From: Vincent  
be over in 10? **

**See you then. :-) **

**From: Vincent  
we should be professional poets. we'd win so many awards. **

Laughing, Blaine put his phone on his bedside table and shuffled over to his movie shelf in search of the perfect Aniston movie for the evening.

* * *

**And that's chapter 10 for you. Short of Ryan Murphy melting my brain again I should be back on my normal posting schedule. **

**Next chapter Blaine and Sebastian FINALLY talk. Like for reals. **

**Reviews are the best part of my day. :-)**

**Who do you want to see more (or less) of? Other than Sebastian, who I promise is going to be around a lot starting next chapter.  
Also if anyone has any ideas as to what's going to be going on with Kurt between now and the BREAK UP that would be awesome, because I have none. **

**3**


	13. Chapter 11

**Warning:** **So all of those things that I warned about waaay back in the prelude are in this chapter. Which would be underage drinking (oh the scandal!), and mentions of drug use and discussion of suicide/suicidal thoughts. Also some very subtle Kurt hate. **

**Also I can't really tell the difference between q's and g's and p's and b's, and according to the squiggly red line of Word, that was a problem this chapter. Hopefully I managed to fix them all and I'm really sorry if I missed some.  
**

* * *

It seemed like only yesterday that Blaine was helping lug Tristan's 80 pound trunk up the main staircase of Connors, but here he was with the rest of the Warblers, already enjoying their second pizza night.

Being back with the Warblers was extremely gratifying. Being part of New Directions had been great; but they were 50% about having fun, 30% about feeling good about yourself, and really only 20% effort. With the Warblers, they were almost entirely about the work and it just so happened to be fun because he was doing something he loved with people he loved.

New Directions was 70% fun and 30% work. The Warblers were the exact opposite. Simon had just finished performing his first arrangement; a mash-up of _Beep_ by the Pussycat Dolls and Tyga's _Rack City_ (which might have been the greatest thing that Blaine had ever heard, because neither of those should work as a capallea. But it had and it was brilliant, even if it was a little rough around the edges). He had spent almost all of his free time, and a large portion of his class time, working on for the past week.

Being with these boys- staying up late to work on new arrangements, practicing their dance moves in the hall between classes, throwing impromptu performances in the Commons, it was home in a way New Directions never was. It wasn't really a surprising epiphany. What was surprising was his sudden desire to have Sebastian be a part of it too.

It was unnerving to watch him during practice. He just sat quietly in the corner, accepting the sheet music when it was handed to him and never commenting on it. He never failed to learn his parts of the dances and sang with as much passion as ever but as soon as practice ended he left the room, never sticking around to talk to anyone. He didn't eat lunch with them and he was as conspicuously absent from this pizza night as he was from the last.

It probably didn't help that Vincent's favorite topic of conversation was his cross country captain. However weird he thought Sebastian was being, Vincent was struggling even more with the two totally opposite versions of his idol that he was presented with.

The Warblers weren't always all together. Ben and Ethan spent a lot of their free time with the tennis team, and Vince had his running friends. Lucas played violin in the orchestra and was sort of seeing, but not really, a bassoonist, so that occupied a lot of his time. So Sebastian not being around wasn't necessarily noticeable at first. But after a couple of weeks even Trent was admitting that they felt much more like a group of 13 than 14, although he didn't seem particularly inclined to do anything about it.

But Blaine would, because it wasn't even the end of September and the discord of the group was becoming more and more tangible. Really, it was for the good of the group.

Unfortunately for Blaine, by the time he had resolved himself to this very important task, Sebastian had already left Dalton for his usual Saturday night debauchery. The next day he had a lacrosse tournament all the way over in Canton. On Monday, in the 10 seconds between Trent adjourning practice and Blaine looking down to grab his bag, Sebastian had fled the room.

A string a bad luck and continual distractions meant that come Thursday, Blaine still hadn't been successful and he was rapidly getting more and more irritated at his failure. So when practice ended he only felt a little guilty for blatantly ignoring whatever it was that Thomas was trying to ask him in favor of running from the room and down the deserted halls of Wexner in order to keep him from getting away again.

"Hey, Sebastian!" he called after the boy's retreating back. "Wait up." He jogged to where Sebastian had paused in the middle of the lawn.

"Blaine," he nodded cordially. "What can I do for you?"

"Over the summer my brother went to Mexico," he replied conversationally. "He brought back a bottle of tequila for me. Tonight you're going to help me drink it."

"Am I really now? What makes you think I'd be interested? It's a Thursday night, after all. I could have other plans."

"One, you love tequila. Two, I'm sure you can postpone your gay bar plans for a night. Three, I wasn't asking." Bold was good. And Sebastian respected demanding, or at least thought it was cute enough when Blaine tried his hand at it that he was willing to humor him.

Sebastian snorted at the last and took a moment to consider his options. "It better be damn good tequila," he said finally, motioning for Blaine to lead the way.

It was good tequila, although Blaine wasn't really the best judge of such things. But Sebastian certainly seemed to like it, if his proposition to marry the bottle was anything to go by.

"I thought you wanted to drink together. I seem to be the only one drinking." He glared accusingly.

"Maybe if you stopped cuddling the bottle I could have some." Blaine snatched the nearly half empty bottle away, wincing a little as he swallowed the alcohol down. Sebastian nodded in approval before greedily holding his hand out for more.

"Alright," he said a moment later, placing the bottle down on Blaine's bedside table. "I am appropriately drunk, and feeling very amiable. Feel free to start the interrogation now. Or whenever you're ready. There's no rush." He leaned back into the pillows.

"W-what?" He stuttered, sounding more guilty than offended.

"If you just wanted to hang out we would've gone for coffee or to a club, or we would've done something with Vince. You wanted me drunk and alone. You've barely had anything to drink, so you weren't hoping to fuck. Although that offer is always on the table," he purred. "And you know that tequila is pretty much my _veritaserum_," the word rolled off his tongue, in what should have been a ridiculous accent, because Sebastian was a pretentious asshole and had only read Harry Potter in French. "Doesn't take a genius, Blainers. But I meant it when I said I was feeling amiable. So let's have out with whatever is bothering you so you can get back to your life of skin care routines or whatever the hell it is you and Hummel should be skyping about right now."

So much for trying to trick Sebastian. He shouldn't have even attempted, he was always miles ahead. But he was taking the clumsy deception effort better than Blaine could have ever hoped for. Now all he had to do was find a delicate way to put his concerns.

"You're different during rehearsals. You're quiet and you never have opinions about anything."

"There a question in there?"

"Not really. Just, you know, why?" Delicate had never really been his forte, especially when he was sleep deprived and tipsy.

"You certainly don't beat around the bush, do you?" Sebastian scoffed. Then, after a moment, "It was their condition for letting me finish out last year as Captain. I'd quietly step down from the council at the end of the year and limit my creative influences this year. AKA sit quietly in the corner until I was told to do something. I got quite the lecture after auditions, apparently I was too involved."

From what Blaine could recall Sebastian spoke about four times, once at the request of the council, during auditions. Sure he had been a bit opinionated, but it didn't scream over-involvement to him.

"You could have gone to the headmaster. He seems to… like you." Maybe Blaine had more tact than he thought, because what he really meant was 'why the hell didn't he expel you after all the bullshit you pulled last year?'

"Yes," Sebastian agreed. "He does seem to like me. Or my family's money, at least. We'll be graduated by the unveiling, but rumor has it that Dalton is getting a new sports facility that will be bearing my surname."

"That explains a lot," Blaine said at length, not sure if congratulations were in order or how much his annoyed scoff would be misinterpreted.

"I could have gone to him. He could have threatened to disband the Warblers or something equally drastic if I wasn't allowed back on council. It didn't seem worth it though. The end of last year was a disaster. We pulled it together in the end, not well enough to win… but a leader is only a good leader if people want to follow him. They didn't want to follow me anymore. Besides, I'm cross-country and lacrosse captain. That's more than enough on my plate." But it was an afterthought.

"Not indoor track too?" Blaine teased.

"God. Of course not. The coach is an absolute ass. I would kill her before we even finished organizing winter training." Which Blaine new perfectly well, he'd spent hours listening to Sebastian bitch about Coach Levitt last December. "She wanted to do gift wrapping for a fundraiser. We don't need to do fundraising. Fucking idiot."

It felt alarmingly like before. Like the last year had never happened. Sitting around, drinking a bit (because when wasn't Sebastian drinking? Blaine secretly thought that if it weren't for his coffee addiction and athletic commitments Sebastian would never drink anything that wasn't alcoholic) and just talking. He'd be lying if he said he hadn't missed and that it wasn't part of his motivation for this whole conversation.

"Well you're being all nice and docile is still disturbing to me. But you're dedication to easing up on the bitchy and degrading comments certainly makes you infinitely more likable. You haven't made anyone cry at all year." Before the whole Warbler fallout, Blaine had been regaled with several stories about Sebastian's sharper than average tongue and impatient nature. Unsurprisingly, the two didn't exactly make a great combination, especially right before Sectionals.

Sebastian flinched like he'd been hit. "I meant what I said at the Lima Bean. It's all fun and games until it isn't. I'm not saying I should have been best friends with David, but they liked him their bear cub. I know he had a lot of other stuff going on. But it really wouldn't have been that hard for me to just keep my fucking mouth shut. Or give him actual advice on how to get guys. You just never know, when you say something. You just never know."

"I hadn't realized you were so… affected by what happened with Karofsky."

"Weren't we all? I'm sure Kurt beat himself up over it. It's hard not to feel guilty about something like that. It's so wrong that I played any part in that. And I understood, a bit, what Dave was feeling."

Blaine nodded, because he suspected that all gay guys in the Middle of Fucking Nowhere, America understood a bit what Karafosky had been feeling. But the look in Sebastian's eyes bothered him, like he meant something more. "Did you ever, you know, do anything destructive?" because somehow that seemed politer then asking if he, too, had tried and failed to commit suicide.

"No, never. I drink like a fish because it's good for me." He rolled his eyes. "But if you're asking if I ever tried to kill myself. Not really."

Blaine's chest tightened. "What does that mean? Not really? It seems pretty straightforward to me."

Sebastian closed his eyes and sighed. This wasn't where he had envisioned this little talk going. He blamed the tequila for his sudden need to try and explain this to Blaine.

"What you would consider the first time," he said with a disregarding eye roll, like people just tried to kill themselves every day. Which, okay, they did, but that didn't make it any less of a big deal. And Blaine wasn't entirely sure he didn't regret asking, because he didn't know how to deal with these kinds of things and 'the first time' meant there were others and it wasn't really a situation where he could say 'just kidding. Actually, I have to go now' because wasn't it important that people listened to this type of thing? And suddenly it was a lot harder to breathe than it had been a few minutes before.

"I was six. And before you freak out," Sebastian was holding up his hands as if to stave off Blaine's impending and inevitable panic, "I was too young to have any real concept of death. I wasn't trying to die. But one night I overheard my parents talking. They were drunk and they were talking about how they like me so much better when I was asleep. If only I was always sleeping, I'd be the perfect child." He laughed self-deprecatingly.

"I was still young enough that I gave a fuck. But I've never been able to sleep for more than five hours at a time, unless I was sick. So I went to their bathroom and found her sleeping pills and took a handful. I was so fucking pleased, because I was doing something to make them happy. She never looked at me the same again." Sebastian took another long drink from the nearly empty bottle and stared pensively out the window. Blaine wondered if he was remembering, or trying hard not to.

"And the other time? Times?" He prompted when he could no longer sit in the oppressive silence. His brain was overloaded with images of a six-year old Sebastian (angles less sharp, still with all his baby teeth, or maybe missing the front two) sprawled across a bathroom floor, bottle of pills dramatically scattered nearby. The flashing lights of an ambulance filled up the small space that echoed with the screams of the shadowy figure that was Mrs. Smythe. It probably wasn't what had actually happened, it was too Hollywood. But now that it had been pictured, he couldn't un-see it.

"You saw me last year. That same blatant disregard I had for everybody else. Before, mostly I felt that for myself. I never tried to kill myself because I didn't care one way or another. If I died," he shrugged. "If I lived," he shrugged again. "It coincided a little too well with my rebellious years. I was very reckless for a time."

That was perhaps a very mild understatement. At 13 he had been drinking his way through some of the more disreputable bars of Sydney. At 14 he was smoking anything handed to him and going home with whichever Parisian man would have him. The night he turned 15 he started snorting coke. He very specifically could not remember the two weeks surrounding that auspicious occasion.

"What happened? You don't seem like that anymore."

"I was in an accident. It was my fault." He and his friends had taken off to Rome for a weekend. They were traveling late and found a patch of road that was 'just perfect for racing', according to Jacques. It might have been, if they hadn't been drinking. And Sebastian, who wasn't anywhere near old enough to have a license, woke a day later to an Italian nurse prodding at him. To this day he still thanked the god he didn't believe in that Antonio had to pee, that he and Yves were overwhelming co-dependent, and that Jacques was an impatient fucker, because it meant he was alone in the car. It was one thing to willingly gamble his own life; it was another to be so careless with others.

"I had a concussion, bruised ribs, and my leg was broken in three places. They weren't sure I would ever be able to run again." He hadn't even cared about sports until he was told he might never be able to play them again. As a kid he started running and lacrosse because it kept him from going home to an empty house and he had only kept it up out of habit. "The whole affair made me re-evaluate my life."

It had been a rather slow re-evaluation, but it still happened. He had left the hospital as reckless as he went in, hitch hiking his way back to Paris because he couldn't drive himself. As he couldn't frequent his normal haunts due to his leg, he'd had to give up the drugs. When he finally started running again he quit smoking; it was a painful enough without him also having to worry about his lungs collapsing on him. He clung to the alcohol and meaningless sex though, knowing he would never be able to make it through without.

Blaine wanted to press for more, because it was obvious Sebastian wasn't telling him the whole story. He always wanted more from him. He knew, in rather graphic detail, every hookup Sebastian had last fall. Knew how all of his classes had been going and what he was learning in them. He even knew about his irrational dislike of Furbies. But for everything Sebastian said there was another hundred things he wasn't saying. He knew he couldn't push it, even though he really wanted to. Sebastian was already going to regret this conversation in the morning. Besides, the last time he had pressured him to talk he ended up walking two miles in the freezing cold without a jacket.

For a while they sat in comfortable silence, Sebastian still staring out the window and Blaine slowly falling into a sleepy drunken stupor as he mulled over what he had just learned and tried to reconcile it with all the facets of Sebastian he had seen. "We're going to go back to being friends now," Blaine announced apropos to nothing.

"Oh goody," Sebastian deadpanned. But Blaine saw the way his eyes lit up. "Your beloved boyfriend is going to pitch a fit."

"Probably." Blaine shrugged like it was the furthest thing from his mind. "I'll record it when he finds out. You'd be amazed at how squeaky his voice gets when he's upset."

"My, oh my. I didn't know you had it in you, killer."

Blaine sleepily hummed to himself, eyelids drooping closed. "I like having things in me," he murmured.

When he awoke the next morning to the blaring of his alarm, Sebastian was long gone and he had somehow found his way into his pajama bottoms and under his covers.

Despite Blaine's best intentions they weren't suddenly best friends, or whatever exactly it was his drunken self had imagined happening.

He hadn't actually considered it before, but it was very possible that the fact that Sebastian was never around had less to do with him trying to avoid the Warblers and more to do with the fact that he really was the busiest person in the world. He ate breakfast at some ungodly hour, never seemed to go to lunch, and had practice when the rest of the Warbler's went to dinner.

And this was why weekends were invented. He might have felt a little bad about waking Sebastian up at 8 on a Saturday morning, but he needed coffee and was expected home later that afternoon. Sebastian paid him back by pounding on his door at 6.25 Monday morning and dragging him down to breakfast.

Thus began a vicious competition to see who could make the other lose the most sleep. The jury was still out on whether Sebastian paying one of the cross country freshman to sit on Blaine's balcony and bang a branch against the window every time he started to fall asleep counted, because Sebastian hadn't actually done anything, but Blaine hadn't really slept much for the next three nights because, of course, he did that the night of their horror movie marathon.

Blaine wasn't paranoid, he was just cautious.

They called a ceasefire after Sebastian's alarm was set to blast Katy Perry at 4 am every morning for two week. There was playing dirty and then there was that.

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**Meep! You all are so wonderful. If I could cuddle/make cookies for all of you I would. (I make really good cookies.) All of your reviews are just so awesome and wonderful and really thoughtful, it absolutely tickles my heart. Serious love to everyone.  
Next update will probably not come out terribly quick. LeakyCon is happening this weekend and while I'm tragically nowhere near Chicago, Harry Potter will always be one OTF, so I'll be vicariously living it through my tumblr. **


	14. Chapter 12

**Uggh. This was supposed to be up like... days ago. But then my stupid twin came home and I haven't seen/talked to her for like 2 months.  
Also I've been having all these stupid Klaine emotions. Which is horrible and I'd really like it to stop. Please and thank you.  
Speaking of, for all of you who don't like Blaine moping over Kurt... you might not be the biggest fan of the next couple chapters. But remember, the more miserable he is now, the faster they break up. (Which is actually happening soon. Like this is really going to become a Seblaine fic. wtf)**

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"Rough week, Anderson?" Ross asked with a pitying look at Holly as Blaine pulled his mask off. It hadn't been a particularly graceful bout on either of their parts. Blaine was mostly just lashing out, and Holly was doing her best to not get hit.

There was already a welt forming on her right hand from where the blade had wrapped around it. Casting a guilty glance at it, he forwent the traditional handshake in favor of a hug, which she accepting somewhat begrudgingly at first but he persisted until she returned the hug with equal enthusiasm.

"Go sweat all over someone else," she laughed, gently pushing him away. "I'm sure Ross would love a hug."

"Only from you, baby." He wiggled his eyebrows in a ridiculous manner that was, frankly, a little embarrassing to everyone in the room. While Ross flirting was nothing new or different, no one really knew how serious he was when it came to Holly. There were rumors that they had shared a kiss at last year's holiday party. Both fencers denied it with varying levels of vehemence and a couple weeks later Holly had started dating this absolute idiot from her school. It hadn't stopped people from placing bets on when they'd get together, but it had stopped them from publicly discussing it.

"You would hug a dead tree, and you know it," Blaine scoffed, snuggling up to his friend and making sure to get as much sweat on him as possible.

"I was going to ask after your handsome man friend, but I'm not sure I care anymore," sniffed Ross.

"Kurt?" Blaine blinked in confusion, because while all of them were true about Kurt, he'd never heard anyone describe him as such. "He's good. Rachel used all the hot water the other day, and he almost killed her. But right as I was talking him out of putting arsenic in her coffee, he found out he got the job at Vogue," he cheerfully reported. "I think he's really homesick though. He hasn't said anything, but he just seems kind of sad." His face fell a little. "Long distance relationships suck. This past week alone I missed three Skype dates because I fell asleep or had too much work."

"While I appreciate the update, I wasn't actually talking about Kurt."

Blaine was more confused than ever as he tried to figure out who he was talking about. Ross had met Rich, Wes, and David a handful of times and they were certainly handsome, and men, and friends. Maybe he'd finally cracked enough that he meant Toby, although Blaine mostly talked about him like he was still a baby…

Ross rolled his eyes. "The one from Springfield. With the stupid name."

"Sebastian?"

"That's the one. Good thing he's so hot, with a name like that."

"His mother is French." He knew he was being unnecessarily defensive, Ross still teased him for being called Blaine and there was nothing malicious behind it. And Sebastian was kind of a dumb name that made everyone immediately think of singing crustaceans. "And he's fine."

It was, to date, the most awkward not-awkward relationship he'd ever been in. Whenever they spent time together, which was becoming increasingly more frequent, he was equally torn between enjoying himself and torturously waiting for it to get awkward. They shouldn't be able to just sit there and talk about how the Buckeyes were doing (distressingly poorly) or Mr. Laverty, the incompetent head of the language department. A lot had happened between them in the past year, and shouldn't their conversations reflect that?

He wasn't really sure how that would be achieved in practice, since they both very much didn't want to talk about those things. They been addressed and they'd moved on. He just hadn't expected moving on to look so much like returning to back to exactly where they left off.

To make things worse for him, he hadn't told Kurt that he and Sebastian were friends again. It wasn't that he was trying to hide it or anything; it just never explicitly came up in conversation. It wasn't a lie when he replied to Kurt's 'so what have you been up to?' with a casual 'just hanging out with some of the guys' because Vincent and Sebastian were some of the guys.

It would only lead to an argument, and lord only knows they were having more than enough of those without adding Sebastian Smythe to the mix. Once they'd figured out this whole living-hundreds-of-miles-apart thing he's bring it up. Until that time, he'd just hope that Sebastian continued his hatred of all things social media, because a nuclear bunker wouldn't protect them from the resulting explosion of Kurt reading a tweet from Sebastian to his boyfriend.

He was grateful when Ross just smirked knowingly then let him beat the crap out of him with a sword. There really was no stress relief quite like fencing.

By study hall the next night he was really wishing he had never left the club, or had at least stayed for an extra half hour because he had never been so fucking stressed in his entire life. Probably.

Not only was he just assigned a truly gargantuan amount of work, he had completely failed an Italian quiz for the first time in his life (or gotten a C, but at Dalton that was pretty much the same thing), he also had his first meeting with his college counselor which coincided with Warbler practice. Trent had not been amused when he told the council he was going to be half an hour late for rehearsal.

Didn't he know that sectionals were only a little over two months away and they still had so much to work on and he was lead soloist? Two months might feel like a long time now, but it would be over in the blink of an eye.

It had taken Nick several minutes to calm their captain down and several more to convince him that it would be a great opportunity to let others try their hand at lead, because they had that holiday benefit right after sectionals and, while it might be too early to pick out songs for either yet, the more they could get sorted ahead of time the better.

Needless to say, going in he was already just on the wrong side of overwhelmed. But he considered himself well prepared for the meeting.

He had a plan for next year- New York (with Kurt) studying musical theatre (with Kurt and Rachel). He even knew where he was going to be living (his apartment. With Rachel and Kurt). He wouldn't be like Jeff who had no idea what he wanted to do and was only set on going to college because he felt obligated to do it.

Mr. DeWitt listened as he described, in detail, his plan. He mmm-ed as Blaine discussed which of the courses Rachel was already taking he was interested in and even nodded when Blaine proudly assured him that he would also be applying to NYU because he knew it was important to have more than one option.

"Well, that is an excellent starting point," Mr. DeWitt said with a smile as Blaine spluttered unattractively because it was a clear ending point, not a starting one. "Now if you could just fill out this questionnaire?"

The questionnaire was seven pages long and printed on a neon orange paper. Some of the questions were expected. Like, _where do you want to go to school? _Unhesitatingly he printed out _New York City_ in reply. After a moment he added _Boston?_ He didn't actually want to go to school in Boston, but it was near New York and it was clear he was expected to put more than one place down. Other questions, like _If you could only eat sweet or salty foods for the rest of your life, which would you pick?_ were clearly just Mr. DeWitt fucking with them.

Nearly two hours after Blaine entered Mr. DeWitt's office he was dismissed, head swirling with questions he had never really thought about regarding his future. He hadn't actually changed his mind about anything, he was still going to New York, but the thoughts were still there. And even they were more comforting than the knowledge that he had completely missed practice and Trent was, most likely, going to kill him. Or spitefully give away all his solos.

Luckily, neither happened. Trent, as it turned out, also had Mr. DeWitt as a college counselor, so he understood how a half hour meeting could turn into a 2 hour ordeal. He even made sympathetic noises when Blaine mentioned the questionnaire. Blaine wasn't about to question his abrupt change of heart, so he just nodded gratefully and assumed that practice went well.

Trent's forgiveness and the twenty minute conversation he had with Kurt Thursday night were, unfortunately, the only thing that he had going for him as the weekend approached. He had more homework than ever and the council had demanded that they all come up with at least one arrangement by the middle of the week. Organization had never really been one of his primary skills; spontaneity had always suited him much better.

By Saturday he was so stressed out that he was wide awake at 5.30. He hated waking up early, almost more than anything. If the entire world was asleep, then he should be too. He was willing to bet that he was the only person in all of Dalton who was awake right now.

Except, maybe, Sebastian. He seemed to get up pretty early himself, even on weekends. Possibly not 6 in the morning early, but he usually slept with his phone on silent, so just texting him wouldn't wake him up. Sure, he was determined to win this ongoing war they seemed to be locked in, but it was hard not to notice the increasing darkness of the bags under his eyes. And he was going to let today be a day of rest, but fuck, he was bored.

When he agreed to get coffee with Sebastian he had expected them to go into Westerville, or maybe even to Columbus; he hadn't been expecting them to get into Sebastian's car and drive all the way to the Lima Bean. He also hadn't expected to be completely ignored in favor of whoever Sebastian was furiously yelling at in French.

Currently, they were sitting in the parking lot and Blaine was debating whether he should get out of the car because he had no idea whether the conversation was being wrapped up or not. He knew Sebastian's basic order, he could go in and order for both of them, but they had already been sat there long enough that it was clear he was waiting for them to finish up.

"Sorry," Sebastian said absently, interrupting his fretting. He reached across Blaine and opened the glove box, pulling out a stick of gum and popping it in his mouth. Gum chewing was a habit that Sebastian detested and he only did it when he was desperately craving a cigarette. Normally, the promise of coffee would be enough for him. Whatever he had been talking about must have been really bad then, if he needed gum to get him from the walk to the car to the counter.

Finally getting out of the car, Blaine turned to Sebastian and said, "That sounded… intense." To him all French sounded intense. Like most languages it was faster than English, and, to his ears, it sounded harsher than the melodic tones of Italian.

"Huge scandal at the foundation. Someone important may or may not be involved with prostitutes. Chloe's always hated him so she wants the world to know. Obviously it would reflect horribly on us, so everyone else wants to keep it quiet, but she's a stubborn bitch. Jonas finally got fed up and decided that I was the one who could talk her down." He paused to open the door.

"Did it work?" Often Sebastian's life was beyond Blaine's comprehension. He knew that when it came to the Smythe Foundation, he was only remotely involved, in many ways he was more a figurehead than anything. But he still dedicated at least 15 hours a week to his work there. More, presumably, when something like this was going on.

"Who knows," he replied distractedly, already trying to figure out what to get. "The board is behind me. And she's a business woman at heart and clever as fuck when she's not drinking. As long as no one involved was trafficked…" he shook his head, not even wanting to dwell on that possibility.

"Can I take your order?" The barista asked from behind the counter.

The stress lines on Sebastian's face vanished as he turned his face from Blaine. "Two medium drips. A sticky bun for him and," he gazed contemplatively at the display, "an almond scone for me." He smiled hugely as he handed over his cash, suppressing a chuckle as the barista blushed and fumbled out his change. Unsurprisingly, she gave him too much. Motioning for Blaine to take his drink, Sebastian carefully counted out the correct amount of change and deposited the rest into the tip jar. Blaine was actually surprised when the poor girl didn't pass out when he took his drink with an unnecessary wink and a cheerful 'have a lovely day'.

"I just guaranteed myself a free scone next time I see her," Sebastian grinned as he waited for Blaine to finish with the cinnamon.

Leading the way to an empty table in the back corner, Blaine shook his head. Like normal, he was never able to decide whether Sebastian's shameless nature was embarrassing or impressive.

He gave them a few minutes to enjoy their food before reaching into his bag and pulling out his class schedule and the blank paper that Sebastian requested he bring. Once again his entire demeanor changed as he pulled them closer and began to intently study them.

"You're taking AP micro?" Sebastian laughed. "I got a 5 on that exam without even taking the class. But you have Matthews, so probably a lot of extra and pointless reading to make you more well-rounded human being?" He didn't bother to look up for Blaine's nod of confirmation, just scribbled something in the margin and pointed his pen at a handwritten portion. "I don't see Skype time here."

Shrugging self-consciously Blaine muttered, "There isn't really a pattern. We talk as much as we can but… We're both really busy." He waited for Sebastian to make some wise-crack about what that said about the state of their relationship or insult Kurt in some way. But he didn't say anything instead he looked… was that concerned? Blaine wasn't sure, because it was gone as quickly as it came and Sebastian was already turning his attention to the task at hand. "I'll factor an hour, should we say? Of free time for that. When you," he paused uncertainly and tried to cover it up by taking an over long sip from his drink. "When you do talk, is there a time it typically happens?"

"After study hall, normally. Sometimes during the day."

"And you normally go to bed around what time?"

"By 1 would be ideal. Especially if I'm going to be getting up at 6.30 every morning." He mock glared across the table.

"I don't hear you complaining too much when you take over my bed between breakfast and class."

"Your dorm is closer. And your duvet is a gift from God," he replied unrepentantly. If Sebastian was going to be dragging him across campus practically before the sun had even risen, the least he could do was sacrifice his bed for an hour.

"Blaineyboo!" A shrill voice shrieked from the cash register, startling both of them. Before he could figure out who was yelling, he was enveloped in a feathery, perfumey, bone crushing hug, accompanied by earsplitting shrieks.

"Sugar! What are you doing here?" He laughed and hugged her back.

"Getting coffee, silly. Duh," she rolled her eyes dramatically. "We're going on a road trip!" Craning his neck around her, he spotted Tina and Joe waving at him from where they were waiting for their drink.

"Britt was supposed to come, but Lord Tubbington is doing ecstasy again. And she didn't want to leave him alone."

"I'm just, umm, going to go say hi to them," Blaine told Sebastian, pushing Sugar off his lap as Sebastian tried to look thoroughly absorbed in Blaine's scheduling and not like he was laughing at a cat with a drug habit.

"Hey guys!" He greeted his friends, hugging Tina and smiling broadly at Joe. "It's so good to see you. Sugar tells me you're on a road trip?"

"One of the pipes burst and flooded, like, half the school, giving us a free long weekend. We're headed up to Chicago to see Mike."

"It's been like two weeks since Tina's seen him and she's dying," giggled Sugar.

"I know how that goes," Blaine said sympathetically. Although it had been over a lot longer than two weeks since he last saw Kurt and he wasn't really sure when he would be seeing him again The way things were going before Thanksgiving seemed unlikely.

"Are you here with Sebastian?" Tina asked, squinting over his shoulder towards his table. To his credit, Sebastian wasn't staring at them, which is what Blaine would be doing if their roles were reversed. He was, however, furtively looking up every couple minutes, presumably trying to gauge whether it was going to be necessary to beat a hasty retreat to the bathroom.

"Yeah. He's, umm, helping me with some school stuff."

"You drove all the way to Lima on a Saturday morning so he could help you with homework?" Tina asked skeptically. "Are you cheating on Kurt?"

"What? No! I need to see Toby. And he has a lacrosse game out in Delphos later." He was acutely aware that he was lying, but Tina's was looking less and less like she wanted to kill him, so he wasn't going to be regretting it anytime soon. "It was just a convenient time for us. There's a Warbler party tonight, and if I went to visit Tobs tomorrow, my parents would make me go to church with them, which isn't really high on my list of things to do," he continued, hoping to make the lie as convincing as possibly. "We didn't even talk the entire way here." Well aware that he was bordering on suspiciously over-sharing he shut up.

Looking a little ashamed Tina hastily muttered an apology for jumping to conclusions. It didn't stop her from glaring at Blaine's fellow Warbler as they continued catching up. Although he would consider himself friends with the three of them, he had never been particularly close to any of them. He'd had more conversations with Mike about Tina than he actually had with her and in many ways Joe was an unknown entity to him. He and Sugar were both very physically affectionate and had bonded over that, especially during the summer months when everyone else thought it was too hot for cuddling, but even then their conversations had been limited.

After fifteen minutes and a lot of shuffling around as they attempted to stay out of the way of other customers, Tina announced that they should probably get going. They exchanged another round of hugs and promised to do a better job of keeping in touch, even making Blaine promise he'd come see them in McKinley's production of Guys and Dolls. He assured them he wouldn't miss it for the world and gave Sugar an extra long hug because they were both without their boyfriends and Dalton boys weren't nearly as cuddly as he remembered them being.

"Well that was touching," Sebastian sneered when he sat back down. "Reunited with your little public school friends."

Blaine rolled his eyes, long since accustomed to Sebastian's snitty comments, although they were seldom directed at him and it hurt more than he wanted to admit. But an unexpected semi-encounter with a group of people who openly despised you, combined with whatever drama was going on with Sebastian's non-profit would be more than enough to put anyone on edge. Maybe one day he'd befriend people who didn't defend themselves with snark. Until then, he'd have to settle on abusing his puppy dog pout (65% less effective on Sebastian, but not totally useless) and stealing their food in retribution.

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**REALLY IMPORTANT QUESTION FOR ALL YOU LOVELY READERS. Halloween is fast approaching. Costume ideas?  
Also love and cookies. xx**


	15. Chapter 13

For Blaine Anderson, as awful as September had been, was as good as October was going. Thanks to Sebastian, he had an incredibly detailed schedule that meant he was getting his work done, on time, and while he was still doing more work in a week than he did in an entire semester at McKinley, it didn't seem as overwhelming. He had aced his most recent Italian test and, unless he was very much mistaken, the essay he had just handed in for his neuro class was one of the best he had ever written.

Not only that, but all this structure meant that he was actually talking to Kurt for what felt like the first time in weeks. They had managed to coordinate their schedules so they had at least 45 minutes of Skype time every night, in addition to the odd text and phone call during the day. It was amazing what 12 days of consistent conversation could do for a long distance relationship. Not even two weeks ago he had found himself wondering how they were ever going to make it through the year, but since then his faith had been restored. Of course they were going to be okay, because Kurt was his Meg Ryan.

A small faction of the Warblers were actually threatening to 'go Little Mermaid on him' and steal his voice in the middle of the night if he didn't calm it down with all the obnoxiously cheerful pop ditties about how the world was a great and wonderful place he kept forcing them to endure.

"You're cute, Anderson. But really all we need is your voice," Dominic had groaned after he presented them with a Ricky Martin arrangement. "90s pop died for a reason."

"Because the world became a cynical place that decided being mind-numbingly drunk is more important than happiness?" He asked, fluttering his eyelashes in innocence. Trent promptly banned him from picking songs for the rest of the week but his rediscovered zeal for life was infectious. They weren't quite throwing their windows open and belting out lines from _Oh, What a Beautiful Morning _yet, but really it was only a matter of time.

Not even the terror of dance week had put a damper on their spirits. As a whole, the Warblers were still wary of moving beyond the time honored and traditional two-step and basic shuffles that had been all they knew for years. It was only at Ben's continued insistence that, given the shambles they were in last year, the fact that had movement on the stage was probably the only thing that even made them contenders at Regionals. Blaine had hesitantly agreed, because that and Sebastian's blinding smile were all he really remembered of the performance.

The first day of dance week had been interminably long. Trent had called an emergency Sunday meeting for it, and it was literally all they did. All day. Halfway through practice on Monday, it became painfully obvious that none of the council actually had any idea what they were doing. By Tuesday, Blaine stepped up and offered forth his fount of knowledge gained from years of amusement park performances, living with Cooper, and his involvement with musical theatre.

But even he had his limits and he honestly couldn't figure out how they had managed to look so amazing last year, when they couldn't even fumble their way through a couple days of practice. It wasn't until Ben showed up with surprisingly good choreography to Vincent's arrangement of _Hella Good_, and then spent the entire rehearsal shooting looks of extreme gratitude at Sebastian that it clicked and he felt really dumb.

The song choice probably was Sebastian's too, if the doe eyes Vincent was giving him were any indication. Which made sense, because Vince hadn't even been in elementary school when _Rock Steady _came out and he was probably the only person in the entire world who was unimpressed with _Push and Shove_. Sometimes Blaine just didn't know about that boy.

He wondered how the other guys would feel if they knew how much Sebastian was involved. It shouldn't make a difference, because it was easily the best thing that they'd done all semester. Not Nationals material, or anything, but still really good. But Trent, Jeff, and Lucas were determined to continue in their rabid dislike of their ex-captain. Ben and Dom were starting to warm back up to him, after he put in a half hour appearance at their last party.

Sebastian had only gone because it was in celebration of the youngest Warbler's birthday. Vincent had jokingly declared it the best birthday present ever and hadn't left the older boys side the entire time he was there. It had been pretty awkward, because you couldn't really just ignore the guest of honor. The forced social interaction had been good for Sebastian, in Blaine's opinion.

After days of Vince and Blaine harassing him at every given opportunity, he had even agreed to attend the impending pizza night. It was a huge step for him, and Blaine was stupidly proud about the whole thing. (Stupid for two reasons. Firstly, because he was pretty sure he cared about Sebastian's reacceptance in the group more than everyone else combined and secondly, because he was pretty sure Vincent was a far more influencing factor than he was.)

Therefore, it was totally fine that he, himself, wasn't going to pizza night. Because the thing about when life was going great was that it had to stop at some point. And if that point just happened to be twenty minutes before he was due to head over to the senior commons that really wasn't his fault. And some days you just really needed to stay in bed and sulk.

Blaine started as his door was thrown open so hard it bounced off the wall. Sebastian strolled in, looking altogether unconcerned by the dent he probably just made.

"Go away," he grunted, pulling the blankets back over his head.

"But it's Warbler pizza night," Sebastian said with as much enthusiasm as he could muster, like Blaine would be excited about it if he pretended to be. "And they ordered a Hawaiian just for you."

"I'm not in the mood." He waited a minute to see if Sebastian would magically disappear. He didn't. "I'm just having a bad day and being stupid. I'll be no fun tonight. You'll all want to punch me in the face before 5 minutes is up. God, right now I want to punch me in the face." He curled up a bit, making room for the other boy at the end of his bed.

"Lovely as your comforter is, this seems like a conversation I should be having with said face." He barely resisted as Sebastian tugged the bedding down, tucking them securely under Blaine's chin and smiling down at him. "Much better."

"This isn't a conversation. This is me sulking and you harassing me," Blaine pointed out. "So life as normal then," he joked, offering a tight smile."How's Hummel doing?" Sebastian asked conversationally, frowning as Blaine's smile became more forced. "What did he do this time?"

Blaine shook his head in response. "Nothing. No really," he countered because Sebastian wasn't even trying to conceal his skeptical expression. "It's dumb and I'm being stupid. And it's really nothing. I know I'm upset over nothing."

"You're in bed at 6.30 on a Friday night. Clearly you're more than upset. So you're going to tell me what's wrong and if it's really as dumb as you say it is then I'm dragging you to the party and you will enjoy yourself. If you're not being ridiculous then we'll stay here and watch slasher films until you feel better about yourself if only because you're still alive and have all of your limbs and organs."

"I really don't need to talk about it. I know I'm being stupid. Just leave me alone, please," he begged.

"Between the two of us I'm the unbearably judgmental bitch. So you tell me, I judge you, then we move on with our lives. I'm not leaving until you do. I'll sleep here all night. For weeks." There was no point in threats if they were only going to be half-hearted, after all.

"Fine," Blaine huffed, pushing himself into a sitting position. "But I'm warning you right now it's dumb, and you'll probably end up gagging and I really don't want to talk about it after."

Sebastian nodded in understanding and shifted so he was fully facing Blaine who had dropped his gaze to a loose thread on his sleeve as he started talking. "I was talking to Kurt after I got out of class. He's going to a show or something tonight and he just sounded so happy, you know? Like he couldn't contain his excitement over this show, even though it's just some student thing that one of his friends is in. It was nice, to hear him like that. Because a lot of the times when we talk he seems really stressed or sad. I think he's just been getting more homesick then he expected.

"So he was talking and he sounded so happy, just like his old self. Not that you'd know," he glanced up to shoot Sebastian a playfully dirty glare. "You've always excelled at pissing him off.

"It was such a good conversation. Then his friend started talking to him and he got distracted and a minute later he realized he was going to be late for dinner so he had to run. He said 'bye' and hung up," He stopped talking and continued to stare intently at his wrist.

For his part, Sebastian wasn't really sure what to do. He had never really done relationships, and especially never done long-distance relationships, but it seemed fairly normal, just Blaine missing Kurt too much, nothing extraordinary. Dumb because of the emotions involved, certainly but not unreasonable and certainly not a reason to hole up in his room. He had just decided on forcing Blaine downstairs when he started talking again.

"And it's really stupid. But we don't say that to each other. When he transferred back to McKinley he promised me he'd never say goodbye to me. And I know he didn't have to mean it literally, but since then we've always said other things. Like 'talk to you later', 'see you soon', 'love you.' He blushed. 'And he just said it so casually. It just made me think, if he could forget about that, what else…" he trailed off with a shrug, shrinking under Sebastian's stare. "Never mind, I told you it was dumb."

Suddenly Sebastian was off the bed and walking to the other side of the room. Blaine wasn't sure if he was disappointed or relieved that he was finally leaving. Wasn't sure when Sebastian had become the person in his life who he thought he could have this conversation with. But then Sebastian paused to crouch down in front of the bookshelf, frowning in concentration. "I'm thinking Child's Play. Or we could work backwards. Start with Final Destination or one of the Saws and progress to the classics. I could be persuaded either way."

"Candyman," Blaine replied after the silence stretched too thin. He tried not to think too hard about what it meant that Sebastian was doing this, and hadn't even hesitated or stopped to look before plucking the aforementioned DVD off the shelf, just watched as he popped it in the player and turned off the lights.

"Budge up," he ordered plopping next to Blaine on the bed. "You need to set your room up better for movie watching. The only good place to watch is your bed."

He murmured in agreement, too busy being grateful that Sebastian only tensed slightly when he snuggled closer and humming softly when he felt an arm slip around his shoulders then cautiously squeeze tighter. He risked a quick glance over at the other boy, but Sebastian was staring at the screen as though Helen Lyle was the most interesting person on the planet.

They found themselves in this position much more frequently than either cared to admit. Last time had been Sunday, at the start of dance week, when Trent had been busy channeling his inner Wes. They hadn't been allowed to sit down the entire day and come 5 o'clock Blaine thought his feet were actually going to fall off. Smirking, Sebastian had dragged him and Vince back to his room and they'd spent the evening doing homework and watching _Misery_.

The time before that they had been walking back from a marathon study session in the library. Sebastian had about 20 books balanced precariously in his hands when his phone started buzzing. "See who that is, will you?" He asked Blaine, shifting so his pocket was accessible. Blaine had offered about eighty times to help carry the books and was brushed off every time. So he slipped his hands into Sebastian's pocket (careful to keep the inappropriate grabbing to a minimum) and pulled out the phone.

"Text message from Remi. Want me to read it? Or will it be too private?" He teased.

"Doubt it. Never is. Last time it was about how to cook broccoli."

"Can't wait to read this one then." Blaine grinned before clearing his throat and opening the message. "He says 'Sorry to hear that Edmund and Chloe won't be around for the holidays. I have plans too but if you can figure out transport I'll be around from the 27th-30th. Feel free to visit.'" He paused. "Who are Edmund and Chloe? Who's Remi?"

"Remi is a she and my older sister," he said through gritted teeth. "And Edmund and Chloe are my dearly beloved parents."

"You call your parents Edmund and Chloe? Why didn't you tell me you have a sister? Where are they going to be during the holidays?" The way Sebastian's face changed made him wish he stopped asking questions. Or had accidentally deleted the text before reading it.

"I don't call them anything and Rem is hardly part of my life. I see her maybe once every three years; she's been living in Moscow since I was 10. And I have no idea where they're going to be. This is the first I'm hearing of it." His nonchalance was creepy. His tone suggested he was giving a weather report, not finding out his entire family had abandoned him for Christmas.

"I know what you're thinking. It's not that big of a deal. We haven't all been together for the holidays in about seven years. Two years ago I skipped out on midnight mass and got thoroughly fucked in the toilets of seedy Parisian bar then somehow ended up in Budapest. I came home three days later and they hadn't even noticed I was gone." He turned on his heel and began striding in the opposite direction they had been heading, away from Blaine's room and towards his own.

"You coming?" He called over his shoulder. "I have the sudden desire to watch _Mommy Dearest_."

They had yet to encounter a problem that Hollywood couldn't make better. Even if they couldn't find something that specifically combated their woes, the most painful of problems were nothing when compared to having your face reverse bear trapped off. It probably shouldn't have been a comforting notion, but to them it was.

By 2 in the morning they were halfway through the Saw franchise. There was something about watching people be subjected to a reverse bear trap that really but your life in perspective and made petty boyfriend problems seem so much less important. He leaned over to inform Sebastian of this new emotional development only to find out his fellow Warbler had fallen asleep. His mouth was half open and he was drooling a little.

Suppressing the desire to snap an incriminating picture, he rolled off the bed and gently tugged at Sebastian until he was lying down. Sebastian grunted and flung his arm over the side of the bed, making vague whimpering sounds as Blaine pulled the comforter out from underneath him only to hum happily when he was covered up. Carefully Blaine slide his extra pillow out from under Sebastian's head and placed it on the ground. Then bent down to dig out his extra blanket from the box under the bed.

"What're you doing?" murmured Sebastian sleepily.

Wriggling out from beneath the bed, Blaine smiled fondly upwards. "Nothing. Go back to sleep." He got up to switch off the television and finally change out of his uniform. Thrilled as he was to be back in it, he was starting to get a little sick of wearing it all the time.

"Should go. Have an early morning meeting," he continued to mumble. "With panda."

"What?" Blaine paused in the middle of pulling on his sweatpants to make sure he was hearing correctly.

"By the moon. It's very important."

Blaine literally had to bury his face in his blazer to stifle his laughter so it wouldn't wake up Sebastian, who was obviously still sleeping. "Okay. Whatever you say."

"Very important," Sebastian insisted one last time before letting out a soft snore that signaled the end of the conversation.

Blaine laid down on his makeshift bed and tried to make himself as comfortable as possible. "Night, Seb," he whispered into the darkness.

* * *

**Eek. I'm normally so good at responding to reviews before posting a new chapter. But actually I just really want Kurt and Blaine to finally break up. So I'm just frantically writing until that happens. (soon! I promise.)**

**I would, however, just like to send an extra-special thank you to gotta-b-writing and atolia (and actually, really, all of you) for your continued support and reviews. Means the world to me. **

**I don't know how many of you have tumblrs/prefer reading there vs. here, but Sync Your Heart does have a tumblr now. Which is oh-so-cleverly .com. Originally it was meant to be just for me, because I'm writing this on 3 different computers and an iPad and really needed a central database. But I have a tagging problem, so now it's more than a just me thing, and it seemed only fair that I also share it with you all. It's mostly just chapter updates, but there are some extras thrown in as well. **


	16. Chapter 14

**Am mildly embarrassed that I updated my (supposed) one-shot Klaine fic before this. In apology I promise 2 new chapters by next Friday.  
Quick thanks to Loki Firefox for the costume ideas for Nick and Sebastian. :-)**

* * *

"Really?" He breathed, grinning manically at his computer screen where Kurt was smiling back with equal fervor. They had been talking about this for what felt like ages, but it kept not happening and not happening and now it would be.

"Really," confirmed Kurt. His squint indicated that Blaine had frozen up again, a tragic inevitability of the crappy internet reception of a dorm.

"Next weekend?" It was sooner than he could have hoped for. Weeks ago he'd stopped wishing for anything closer than Thanksgiving. He'd even started a countdown in the corner of his agenda. (23 days! written in the brightest colors he could find.)

"If that's okay. I know it's short notice..." Kurt shifted uncomfortably, like he was asking too much.

Huffing a laugh Blaine eagerly assured him, "No. It's fine. It's great." He laughed a little guiltily. "I'm already looking at tickets. You're off all day Friday, right?"

"No, Blaine. You're not skipping classes," he said reading his boyfriend's mind. "Absolutely not."

"Too late," he trilled. "Already booked my tickets. Leaving Columbus pre-dawn on Friday morning. Arriving in LaGuardia at 9.23. Leaving Sunday night at 8.17." He beamed again. "I hope you wrote that down."

"You can't. You have classes," protested Kurt feebly. He knew it was pointless to argue, especially if Blaine had already booked the tickets. And he could hardly argue with an extra 12 hours together.

"Nope. It's happening. I'll have Se-someone drive me." His hands twisted in his lap because they still hadn't talked about his relationship with Sebastian. Kurt hadn't even been asking after him like he had at the beginning of the semester, in the guarded tone that indicated that he was pretending not to care. Blaine had been planning on casually bringing him into the conversation, mentioning something he did at rehearsal, or how he was pretty sure Sebastian and Vince were something, because that at least would assure him that Seb was no longer a threat to their relationship and Kurt had never been able to resist gossip like that.

Kurt hadn't seemed to notice his almost slip-up. "I can't wait to see you. It's been way to long."

Blaine's smile softened and became sadder. "I know. I miss you so-" he was interrupted by a sharp trio of knocks followed by a blunt kick that shook the door.

"Time for you to go?" Kurt asked, voice filled with resignation.

"Yeah. I promised Vince I'd help him get stuff to decorate for the party. He's just really nervous about the whole thing. First big high school shindig, and all that."

"Well text me if you need any advice. And remember, crepe paper is only your friend in moderation."

On this, Sebastian and Vincent had very different ideas. As far as they were concerned, crepe paper was the answer to everything. When Blaine protested they challenged him to come up with something else. He contributed a bunch of fake spider webs and some balloons before conceding that it probably didn't matter. They threw a couple severed hands, skeletons, and fake pumpkins into the cart for good measure before heading to the check out where an argument ensued regarding who was paying.

"It's my party," Vincent stated.

"Which you're only having because I insisted." Sebastian's hand was reaching into his pocket to pull out his wallet. (Insisted wasn't really the right word, volunteered without consultation would probably be better. The senior Warblers had been called together to plan the party when they realized that, with Wes and David both graduated, they had no idea where they would be holding it. Sebastian had leaned over and whispered to Blaine that Vince only lived about 20 minutes away. They would do it there.

"Won't his parents mind?" He had whispered back.

Sebastian had looked at him like he was stupid before shortly replying, "They're around less than yours.")

"You're buying all the alcohol," protested Vince.

"You guys are the worse than a married couple," Blaine snorted, swiping his credit card through the machine and smiling winningly at the girl manning the register.

As they wheeled the cart through the parking lot Sebastian smirked slyly over at Blaine. "You're very cheerful today. You and Hummel finally start experimenting with Skype sex?" Behind them Vincent literally choked.

"No! That's... no!" Blaine gasped. But even his horror at the mere thought of discussing his and Kurt's sex life was eclipsed by his excitement. He was bursting to tell someone beyond the text he had sent to Wes, David, Richard, and Santana which read **Guess who's going to NYC in 5 DAYS?!** "But I am seeing him this weekend!"

"Ahh," Sebastian nodded knowingly. "So the prospect of real sex is on the horizon."

"Bastian!" Vincent sharply reprimanded before turning to Blaine and politely asking, "Is he coming here?"

"Nope. I'm leaving Friday morning." He glanced over at Sebastian, ready to charmingly flutter his eyelashes or do whatever it would take to get him to agree to drive him, only to find that Sebastian's eyes were glued to his phone.

"What time?" He asked distractedly, skimming his thumb across the screen and muttering to himself.

"Well, it's kind of early. Or really early." He sighed and braced himself for the inevitable annoyance, because it really was a lot to ask. "I need to leave Dalton around 4."

"Okay."

"Okay? Did you hear me? I said 4. In the morning. Even you're normally asleep then."

Sebastian waved his hand dismissively. "I appreciate your newfound concern for my sleep schedule but I have a conference call at 4.30. I'll be up anyways."

"In the morning?" repeated Blaine.

"4.30 here is, well actually it's still 4.30 in Ulaanbaatar. But in the afternoon."

Blaine and Vincent looked at each other and shrugged, neither one knowing nor caring where Ulaanbaatar was. But they certainly weren't going to admit that aloud. One of Sebastian's more annoying traits (of which, admittedly there were many) was his general attitude that they were all uncultured swine because they'd only ever lived in Ohio.

"So, Blaine," Vincent said, before they were treated to a lecture on the importance of knowing basic geography or whatever it was that Sebastian's disdainful features suggested he was thinking about, "costume ideas?

"Well, I really want something with feathers, I'm not sure I'll have time, though" Blaine replied, gratefully latching on to the new topic. "Or a cape. It has to be really good though. Kurt will kill me if I only do it halfway. He's been working on his for weeks. He won't tell me what it's going to be because I'd tell Rachel. She's persistent like that."

"That's one way to describe her." Sebastian was glad he only had the misfortune of meeting her a handful of times and he would never understand Blaine's painfully obvious boycrush on her. He could only assume she was a surprisingly fantastic kisser.

It wasn't really a point Blaine could argue with. Rachel certainly took some getting used to. Even Kurt couldn't stand her about 15% of the time and he was living with her. So just this once, he decided to let it slide.

By Wednesday afternoon every single Warbler was lamenting any support they had ever offered Blaine in his relationship with Kurt. Because he was driving them fucking insane as he almost literally bounced off the walls (and the furniture) whenever he remembered his rapidly approaching trip. They'd all learned the warning signs, his eyes sparkling even more than normal and a vague tremor that coursed through his entire being as his soul lit up with joy.

Having been kicked out of Sebastian's, Nick's, and Ben's rooms already (because his manic giddiness combined with half a bag of candy corn was really the last straw) he had headed over to Vince's to put his excess energy to use. He had definitely gone overboard on the balloons and his attempts to weave a complicated web with the crepe paper had gone horrible awry, but he'd also made two separate runs to the store so he was allowed to stay.

They'd just put the final batch of brownies in the over when the doorbell rang and he bounded off to answer it.

"Seriously? Did you miss the memo about this being a HALLOWEEN party?" Blaine stared disapprovingly at Sebastian's uniform, arms braced against the doorway to refuse him entrance.

"Must have gotten lost with yours about how to maintain your dignity," he quipped, eyes lingering overly long on Blaine's arms and green tight clad legs. "Is your cape actually held together by a bowtie?" He squinted at the offending garment.

Blaine just smiled proudly and braced his hands on his hips, which unfortunately allowed Sebastian the opportunity to slip past him and into the house. "But really, Seb. It's not that hard to just throw something together. It took me less than 20 minutes to make this," he gestured down his body at his homemade Robin ensemble.

"Do I want to know why you just happened to own a red leotard?"

"Probably. But some things a gentlemen never tells," Blaine solemnly replied and gathered entirely too much enjoyment from watching Sebastian's face as he put his imagination to use. "I'll go get the goods from your car and you go find Vince and tell him to find you something to wear."

"Isn't it enough that I'm here?" Sebastian asked, wearing a look that, on anyone else, would only be able to be described as petulant.

"No."

Blaine had made the warlock's brew and poured all the chips into their respective bowls and had just started on opening the bags of candy when Vince returned to the kitchen, smirking in a way that was eerily reminiscent of Sebastian. "I'm not sure why I bother," he said with a fond headshake. "Bastian is nearly impossible."

"You actually got him to wear something?" Blaine asked, surprised.

"It took some convincing." He bent down to check on the progress of the brownies in the lower oven. "But I managed in the end. He even promised to come down at some point."

"And you trusted him?" Vincent didn't say anything, but smiled so evilly that Blaine couldn't remember how the hell he had ever connected him with the word innocent.

The ring of the doorbell echoed through the house. Both boys glanced at the clock. Whoever it was, they were 15 minutes early, which sucked for them, because it meant they would have to do all the things that they'd been putting off, like spreading the spider webs.

By 9 the party was in full swing. Nick was skidding around the house, wearing only a pair of socks, tighty-whiteys, and a button up shirt and Jeff was sulking in his pirate costume because he'd been put in charge of making sure that Nick stayed away from the tequila for the rest of the night.

The majority of people were congregated in the generously sized living room, the boys all wearing ridiculous outfits and the girls practically nothing. Thanks to Dominic's girlfriend, Blaine would never be looking at Minnie Mouse the same way ever again. A good number of people were on the deck, bobbing for apples. Each apple had a number carved into it, and whatever number you pulled was the number of shots you had to do. Blaine had been unlucky enough to pull a 4, which meant he was steering clear of drinks for a while because it was a Wednesday night and he, unlike everyone else at the party, was planning on attending his morning classes.

Instead he was engaged in a heated debate with a girl dressed as Catwoman over whether the Avengers were better than the X-Men. Thus far the only kind thing they'd said to each other was when someone placed a pair of cat ears on his head and she assured him they looked absolutely adorable. She then proceeded to tear apart his entire opinion of Captain America.

Across the room, Sebastian (wearing Vince's father's bomber jacket and a pair of aviators) was talking to Vince and a couple of girls dressed as characters from the Wizard of Oz. Dorothy and the Scarecrow had been flirting shamelessly with him. Watching their failed attempts as they grew more and more forward was hilarious. Seeing Sebastian respond by slinging his arm low on Vince's waist, however, was not.

It didn't take long for the girls to excuse themselves from that conversation.

By midnight Blaine was a lot more drunk than he had intended. Not drunk enough to join in on the spin the bottle game that had started up, but he had definitely had enough to expose more than he should have during an impromptu few rounds of Never Have I Ever. Skittle shots were just something he would never be able to say no to.

"Doing okay there?" Sebastian drawled, eyebrow cocked at Blaine.

"I'm doing great!" He exclaimed. "Sheila is the greatest ever. This party is the greatest ever!" After they moved past their initial dispute, it turned out that he and Sheila had a lot in common. They had declared themselves heterosexual life partners for the rest of the night and celebrated their union with two rounds of Blood of Satan shooters.

"Charming," Sebastian replied, eyebrows still judging. "Ben told me you wanted to leave at midnight."

"I lose my superpowers at midnight. POOF. I'll just be another Dick," he informed Sheila who giggled.

"Wouldn't want that, now would be, wonderboy?" Sebastian asked, stooping down to pull him to his feet.

"Where are we going?" Blaine whispered as they weaved their way through the house.

"The north pole." He rolled his eyes. "Back to Dalton, where do you think?"

Obstinately, Blaine dug his heels into the ground, theoretically halting Sebastian's progress. Sebastian didn't seem to be caring and merely grunted a little as he exerting the extra effort necessary to keep dragging Blaine down the driveway. "We can't drive. We've been drinking. Let's just stay here."

"You've been drinking," corrected Sebastian. "Enough for the both of us."

"You didn't drink? At all? All night?"

Snorting, Sebastian shook his head and eased Blaine into his car. "You make me sound so boring. Two beers over the course of five hours probably won't put us in a ditch. Someone needed to be sober enough to drive home."

Blaine looked at him with wide, unfocused eyes that somehow managed to still be too expressive. "You might not be so bad, after all, Sebastian Smythe."

"Now, now, killer. We both know that just isn't true."

* * *

**There will be a little post-halloween party extra going up on the SYH tumblr tonight. I really wish I could provide it here, but that is tragically impossible. Nothing too big, just a bit of Warbler (and quartet!) antics. Have a link: .com. **

**Since I know you've all been missing Kurt so desperately, I'm here to assure you he'll be back (in the flesh) next chapter. :-P Please don't die of anticipatory excitement while you wait. (sarcastic author is sarcastic)**

**Thank you! Thank you! for all the reviews and follows/the fact that you're continuing to read a Seblaine fic that after 50,000 words is still Klaine. I promise your wait is very nearly almost over. **


	17. Chapter 15

**Warning: Blaine being stupidly in love with one Kurt Hummel. I apologize.**

* * *

"What if we get stuck in traffic and I miss my flight?" fretted Blaine, shifting his weight anxiously from one foot to the other as he watched Sebastian stumble around his room in search of clothes. "I can't miss my flight."

"It's not even 4 in the fucking morning. There isn't going to be traffic." Blaine had always kind of assumed that since he was always up so early, Sebastian must be a morning person. He was rapidly finding himself to be very, very mistaken. Admittedly, 3.45 wasn't _morning_, per se. But even Kurt hadn't been this cranky when Blaine's car had broken down and they missed the door busters on Black Friday. "If you do miss your flight we'll just get you on the next one. Or the one after that. Or any of the hundred after that. I promise you will see your lady love today."

"Don't call him that."

Sebastian glared in response and groped through his desk drawer trying to find his keys. "You know, when I told you to come over whenever you were ready I thought it would be a little later."

Blaine's returning smile was sheepish. "I couldn't sleep," he admitted. "I've been awake for hours. It's just... I'm seeing Kurt today, Seb. Kurt. My boyfriend, Kurt. Who I haven't seen in months."

"So I've heard." He spared a glance around the room, making sure he had everything he needed. "Say his name one more time and you're walking."

"Kurt." Blaine tried his hardest to look as adorable as possible so he wouldn't actually be killed. He had tried so hard to resist the urge, surely Sebastian could see that and take pity on him?

"It is way too early for this shit," muttered Sebastian as they tiptoed down the hallway. "Make sure to keep to the left side of the stairs," he advised, "and skip the third from the bottom. It makes a sound like a dying animal. Rob got caught because of it last week."

Blaine made sure to hug the inside of the staircase as close as possible. Not only was Thomas closer to the student parking lot, it was also the jock dorm which could either be a blessing or a curse. It was anticipated that students sneak around it so all the strictest faculty were put there. When someone was caught walking around Connors halls late at night they were normally reprimanded and sent back to bed, in Thomas you were likely to get kitchen duty for a week. But being forced to live with a bunch of rowdy 15-18 year old boys also gave you the miraculous ability to sleep through anything.

For Blaine, the worst part about sneaking out was getting off campus. The gates to the main entrance were shut at night, so you had to drive across campus and through all the faculty housing. He was always terrified that he would get caught. Half the students drove nicer cars than any of the teachers so it was pretty obvious even from a distance who was who. Even though he wasn't the one driving, he still held his breath until they made it onto the main road.

Despite his anxiety about getting to the airport on time, he still insisted that they stop at the drive through and get coffee. Both of them had long days ahead of them and Sebastian had been right about the lack of traffic. Sebastian had grumbled about the quality and even Blaine was unable to choke down more than a few swallows at a time, but the feeling of caffeine coursing through his veins more than made up for it. By the time they pulled up to the airport Sebastian had started looking human and was even willingly participating in Blaine's enforced small talk. (For the first half of the drive it had been Blaine prattling on while he made small and obviously annoyed grunts of agreement in the places that should have been filled with words.)

"See, we made it in plenty of time," Sebastian declared pulling up to the curb and setting the car in park. "It was a close call with all those cars a few miles back..." he teased. They had passed maybe five other cars the entire trip over.

"You never know, okay?" He fiddled with the strap of his duffle, pulling it up from where it was crammed between his feet. "And, uh, thanks for the ride."

"Not a problem. Text me during your layover on Sunday and let me know when I should pick you up?"

"What? No. You don't have to. This was more than enough. I can just get Nick..."

"At 9 on a Sunday? He'll hyperventilate the whole way here. You know that's his sacred homework time," he smiled reassuringly. "Really, I don't mind. Besides, I want to be the first to tease you about all the sex you're going to have."

"Seb!" Vaguely he wondered how long it would be before he stopped being scandalized by the things that came out of the other boy's mouth. "You can't just say... _things_."

"My apologies." He didn't sound apologetic at all.

"So, yeah. I'll call you Sunday. Umm, have a good weekend. And a good call with Ulabatar, wherever the hell it was."

"Ulaanbaatar. Capital city of Mongolia," he corrected with an eye roll.

"Of course," Blaine humored him, popping open the door and sliding out of his seat.

xxx

Speed walking through La Guardia at 9.30 in the morning was not strictly advisable, but Blaine was too excited to care. He had spent the flight bouncing in his seat (partially due to the three cups of coffee he had consumed, but mostly due to excitement) and apologizing to the kindly old woman who was next to him. She had smiled knowingly and asked him if he was meeting someone special.

"A woman can always tell," she had smirked, tapping the side of her nose. "Been apart for long?"

"No ma'am, not very long; only a few months. But it feels like an eternity," he replied earnestly.

"I know how that is," she said with a sigh before launching into a story about when her beloved Albert went off to the war.

(He had just got his first job teaching history, she was a secretary. They had been sweethearts at the outbreak, but he had ended things when he enlisted. His parting words to her had been 'They always say these things will be over in a jiff. They never are. Don't wait for me, Ethel May. You deserve to be happy and Lord only knows when I'm coming home.' They had exchanged a few letters at the start of the war, but had stopped when she, heartsick, moved to New York. Two years after the war ended she was sitting on the bus, headed home one night. And there he was, boarding the bus with a group of his buddies, on his way to a party. They were married a month later. They spent the next 50 years together, never apart for longer than two days.)

It was the most beautiful story he had ever heard and he had maybe cried a little and also, mostly, stopped bouncing. As they prepared to deplane she laid a gentle hand on his arm and wished him the best of luck with his own sweetheart. Smiling, Blaine responded that he hoped, one day, their story would be as wonderful as hers.

Then he was bounding through the terminal because _Kurt._ He slowed down as he got closer because, yes _Kurt_, but also it was nice to have a vague sense of dignity sometimes, especially around armed security guards. All semblance of dignity was quickly discarded, however, when he heard a shriek of 'my Tony has arrived!' and he spotted Rachel across the bustling arrivals hall. She sprinted for him, throwing herself bodily at him and they clutched each other so hard it hurt. Kurt followed at a much more leisurely pace, smirking with amusement.

"Ah, yes. Now I see the real reason you came to visit."

"Green is not your color, Kurt Hummel. You're just jealous because what Blaine and I have is real. Multiple audiences agree." She gave him a final squeeze before releasing him and _finally, finally, finally, _he was falling into Kurt's arms.

It was heaven and he couldn't believe he had almost forgotten what it felt like, how Kurt's hands curled around his lower back and his head tucked perfectly under Kurt's chin. And then Kurt was tilting his head back and kissing him. Kissing him in public because they were in New York and it didn't matter, not like it did in Ohio. And he was kissing back and Rachel was giggling beside them and when they finally broke apart he could have sworn that the elderly woman smiling at him was Ethel May. But possibly he was hallucinating because he was just so goddamn happy.

All the weeks of anxiety were suddenly erased from his mind. He couldn't remember what all their petty fights had been about or why he ever thought that maybe this wouldn't work, was shamefully embarrassed by that one time he had distantly thought of ending it. Whatever had happened since the end of August had been worth it because he got to be here, with Kurt gripping his hand like he never wanted to let go.

They had to take a bus into the city and from there they switched over to the subway. Rachel filled him in on everything that had been going in her life, because they had recently become a little too lax about keeping in touch. Apparently, she had skipped her first class to come greet him, but she had another class in twenty minutes, so she got off two stops ahead of them, confirming their dinner plans as the train began to slow down before rushing off.

"She certainly fits in well here," Blaine laughed as they pulled out of the station.

Kurt laced his fingers through Blaine's, smiled fondly down the subway car and said, "We both do."

The rest of the ride was quiet, both of them just watching everyone and everything else around them, Kurt with the dismissive air of disinterest that came from constant exposure, and Blaine a little more keenly. No matter how many times he had visited New York all the people and activity never got old for him. Sebastian would be rolling his eyes at him now and telling him to stop staring. Not that he was thinking about Sebastian right now, that would be inappropriate.

He wasn't sure if the silence was comfortable or uncomfortable. They'd spent enough time together over two years that they had long gotten beyond the need to have a constant flow of conversation. But he felt like there should be something, not that he could figure out what that something was.

That third cup of coffee had probably been a bad idea, now that he thought of it.

When they emerged from underground Kurt became much more animated, pointing out all the little shops that he and Rachel frequented and telling stories about the people who worked there and other regulars they encountered, admitting that he had never thought they would have found such a community in the middle of a bustling city.

"Well this certainly looked familiar," Blaine smiled, looking up at Kurt's apartment building. He had spent a lot of time walking up and down those stairs when he, Burt, and Finn unloaded the cars during move in. He let Kurt lead the way up, glad when they took the stairs instead of the questionable elevator that had sounded like it was on its last legs months ago.

"I know you've seen it before, when we were moving in. But it was kind of a mess then and the only thing that still looks the same is the kitchen. And I gave you the grand Skype tour. It's not the Anderson penthouse or anything, but its home." Kurt was blushing and fiddling with the keys in his hands.

"I don't own a penthouse," Blaine smiled back. It was so reminiscent of the first time he had gone to the Hummel house and again after they had moved. Blaine had thought it was adorable, still did, even if it was a little embarrassing because between the two of them Kurt was the only one to ever acknowledge his family's money.

"Excuse me?" Kurt said incredulously. "Did you give us the keys to the wrong apartment? I've been there. If that's not a penthouse, I'm living in the loft of my dreams."

"Just open the door, Kurt." Kurt did. Blaine walked in and dropped his bag off to the side, taking a quick look around. It was nice, very homey in a chic way that screamed Hummel-Berry. It wasn't huge or fancy but that didn't make it any less perfect.

Kurt was hovering at his shoulder. "Do you want anything? Are you hungry? We've both been a little busy lately, so it's mostly all take out. And probably nothing for breakfast. We could order, if you want. There's this place a few blocks away that makes the best French toast."

"Actually," Blaine stretched and covered his mouth in an unconvincing, fake yawn, "I'm kind of tired. You know how much I hate waking up early. Knowing you, you have all sorts of things planned for later today and I don't want to be too tired to enjoy them," he put on his best puppy dog pout. "Do you think we could go lay down for a little bit?"

"Oh!" He exclaimed, a little startled. "Of course. I didn't even think. I just assumed you had too much coffee to be tired."

"Probably did," agreed Blaine, pressing a kiss to the pulse point of his boyfriend's neck before darting off to Kurt's room (the room that didn't have a golden star on the door).

The door hadn't even clicked shut behind them before he was crowding Kurt's space, attempting to navigate him towards the unfamiliar bed where they could spend the next hour kissing and cuddling and hopefully having sex, but it didn't really matter if they did because they were together again. All the time they had spent together over summer break had been fantastic but the months since had been the worst sort of torture as he had to adjust to being without him.

Together again. And all alone in Kurt's apartment. He hummed happily at the prospect. Skype might have been the best invention since sliced bread, but it had nothing, nothing on the real thing.

"Steady there," Kurt frowned as he disentangled himself from Blaine. He sighed, hands clenching at his sides. "You were right, I have this whole perfect weekend planned. Dinner out every night. Breakfast at Tiffany's. A stroll through Central Park. I have tickets to Priscilla, and Wicked, because I wasn't sure which you would want to see more. I even set aside a two hour chunk of time to spend in The Container Store, because I know how much you love that place."

"That does sound perfect," sighed Blaine, eyes bright with excitement. "Don't even pretend lie you don't like The Container Store too. You showed me the receipt. "

"It's a great place," he agreed. "And I would love to go there with you. But seeing you just made me realize that this can't wait. We need to have this talk first, not last. I just didn't want it to ruin the weekend."

"What talk? I don't want to talk. That's all we ever do now."

"Don't I know it. And that's…" he scrubbed his hand over his eyes. "I'm not really sure why this is so hard. I'm sure you're feeling the same way. It's not like you're going to be surprised by me saying this," he gestured emptily to the space between them, "isn't working. You know it as well as I do."

He wasn't really sure what Kurt was talking about, because the only thing that could have made this more surprising was if the entire conversation had been conducted with Kurt wearing Karofsky's gorilla costume.

Quietly, almost too quietly for Blaine to hear Kurt admitted, "Also, there's kind of someone else. Not like _that_," he hurriedly assured. "He's in my musical theater class. We were paired up for our first project at the start of the year and we've been really good friends ever since. About two weeks ago he kissed me," he sighed. "I stopped him immediately, of course, and explained about us. He hasn't tried anything since. I don't even like him. But I could, or someone else who is... here." And the implications of that was something Blaine refused to even examine, so he just nodded his head for his boyfriend to continue.

"I've been so afraid of losing you. I've been miserable since I got here. I love New York, I love living here. But I've just been so damn terrified that one morning you'll be as fed up with the distance as I am and you're just going to shut down and leave me."

"So you're doing it first? No offense, Kurt, but that doesn't make any fucking sense."

"You have a tendency to run, when things get hard. Every time we've started to get into a fight you've found an excuse to be somewhere else. You've spent your entire life either running from your family's expectations or from your own dreams. You left McKinley because you were afraid of being lonely. You ran from your other school…"

Blaine felt his breath leave him in a swift woosh. It was clear from the tone of Kurt's voice, all tight and high and brittle, that he was only trying to hurt him. But the last was taking it too far. He knew how Blaine felt about that. Knew how much he hated himself for having left. And Kurt had been the one to convince him that he had done the right thing. ('Don't ever think that about yourself,' Kurt had whispered against his forehead, holding him close as he confided all the ways in which he was a disappointment and a coward. 'Never, ever think that. You were in the hospital. My bully only threatened to kill me, yours actually tried.)

"We're done here," Blaine said harshly.

Kurt nodded, blushing crimson, realizing he had gone too far. He sighed, "I guess this is goodb-"

"Don't," Eyes shining with tears, Blaine interrupted. "Don't you dare, Kurt Elizabeth Hummel. You said you'd never," he hissed. "You've broken all your other promises. Don't break this one too."

Kurt shifted uncomfortably, face flushed a deep red. "I don't know what else to say."

"I'd rather you said nothing then that. Besides, I think you've said enough today, don't you?" He glared at his ex. And wasn't that a weird concept. If Kurt ever talked about him in the future he'd be the ex. He'd been called many names before, but none that ever made his heart clench in quite the same way. It hurt; the thought that this was who he was to Kurt now. A cutting pain that was worse even than the first time he had overheard his father call him a fag. And suddenly he couldn't stand to be there anymore, in the same room, breathing the same air as him. So he turned and walked away. Because it was the only thing left to do and, according to Kurt, at least, what he was good at.


	18. Chapter 16

**100% the only reason this was posted tonight is because I told all of you lovelies it would be. So thanks for that motivation. :-) **

**And sorry for any hearts I damaged with last chapter. At least I didn't kill anyone off? Which is my normal MO.**

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Hours later, Blaine was startled from his stupor by a pounding on the front door. He didn't know who it was and he couldn't really bring himself to care. After leaving Kurt's he got in a cab and directed it to his apartment, happy that he had brought the key, just in case they had wanted a little more alone time.

Alone time, he snorted, that was certainly something he was getting now.

He had been texting with Sebastian for a while, but that conversation had ended with an abrupt **Sorry. Have to go. Try not to have too much fun. **That had been hours ago. He'd been sitting in silence since then because the apartment wasn't used enough to have a tv and he'd stormed off without picking up his bag, so his charger was across town and his phone battery was nearly dead.

The world clearly hated him..

The quiet had been nice though, compared to this obnoxious hammering. If he just ignored it, it would have to stop eventually. It's not like people expected anyone to be there.

It didn't stop though, but it did get more persistent. After another couple minutes an annoyed voice called out, "I know you're in there, Blaine Anderson." Immediately he sprang up and flew to the door, socked feet skidding across the floor.

"What the hell are you doing here?" He asked, blinking stupidly at the boy standing in his doorway.

"I was in the area." Sebastian pushed his way into the apartment, taking a moment to look around. "Reminds me of home." Blaine wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing, but mostly it wasn't the important thing.

"We live 10 hours away."

"Could do with a bit of color. A splash of red, or yellow, perhaps. Maybe a nice rug over by the fireplace. Or some new drapes," continuing his critique. "Or some silver lighting fixtures. Cast iron and wood looks nice, but it doesn't do much for the warmth of a place, especially one so infrequently inhabited."

"In Ohio. How did you even get this address?"

"So it was a very broad area." Sebastian shrugged. "I used that handy stalking tool called the internet. It wasn't very difficult." It had been a little difficult. All he had to go off of was Mr. Anderson's name and the fact it was somewhere in one of the nicer areas of Manhattan and not 'near' (whatever that meant) NYADA. The cabbie had been ready to kick him out after the 3rd wrong building they went to, but he made sure the tip very generously.

He sank down onto the nearby couch. "You need to keep this, when you finally end up redoing the place. A man could spend the rest of his life on this couch."

"So you just swung by New York, on a whim?"

"Sure did, killer. All your texts made it seem like the place to be. Couldn't spend my weekend in boring old Westerville when there was so much excitement happening only a quick plane ride away." He swung his legs up onto the coffee table. "Anything you want to talk about it?" He asked, indicating Blaine's red-rimmed eyes. "Or shall we go engage in some of those adventures you were talking about. I think you mentioned a cheese festival somewhere?"

Blaine blinked, finally realizing that he was still holding the door open. He let go of it and flinched when it slammed shut. He didn't really understand why Sebastian was sitting in his living room glaring at the decorative mirror like it was put on the planet to personally offend him. He had texted him within 20 seconds of walking out of Kurt's apartment, but they had been talking about food and whether the remake of Red Dawn was going to be any good. (Sebastian was staunchly against it and refused to even watch the trailers. Blaine was skeptical but _Chris Hemsworth_. He would commit felonies to stare at that man's abs.)

It wasn't like he had slipped a message in there somewhere reading 'My entire life has been a lie. Kurt dumped me. Am distraught. Please send aid at your earliest possible convenience.'

He watched as Sebastian continued to eye the apartment. Knew when he spotted the seam in the ceiling by the kitchen and figured out that, once upon a time, there had been two apartments. He seemed to consider this development for a few minutes. Blaine knew that Sebastian had lived in New York for a time, and knew the Smythe's were probably very much the type to not only know the current reputation of a neighborhood, but also its history. The moment that Sebastian deduced that the Anderson wealth only spanned a couple generations and was born from frugality despite the ostentatious displays hung heavily in the air. The moment passed as quickly as it came, although he knew that little factoid was filed away somewhere.

"Did I ever mention that my grandfather was a wine connoisseur?" He said finally because he most certainly didn't want to talk about it. "And that he and my grandmother nearly divorced him when he insisted on turning one of the spare bedrooms into a wine cellar? It was quiet a large bedroom, by city standards."

"That, Blaine Anderson, is something you failed to ever mention to me. I'm not sure our friendship will ever recover from this."

"I'll let you pick out a bottle or two, as an apology," he offered, leading the way down the hall. Sebastian followed at his heels looking as excited as a kid about to enter a candy store.

"Best of friends, forever and ever," he promised. "Although I have to wonder if it can really be called a cellar if it's above the 20th floor."

In the end he decided to just call it heaven.

It was a decent sized room by anyone's standards and practically a palace by New York's. Much to Blaine's despair he spent 30 minutes selecting a single bottle. On the other hand, Blaine walked up to a shelf and just grabbed two from it. After promising they could spend the entire day in there tomorrow if Sebastian wanted they finally headed back to the main living area.

Blaine had a mild attack of conscious when he caught sight of a clock and realized it wasn't yet 4 in the afternoon. Sebastian didn't share his qualms and, in fact, firmly lived his life by the motto 'it's 5 o'clock somewhere'. He convinced him in the end, though, by making incredibly lewd sounds with every sip he took and swearing he'd only stop once Blaine joined him.

Two bottles later, Sebastian was flipping through a pile of magazines that had probably been there since the 90s and Blaine was beginning to lament not just going to the damn cheese festival because red wine made him pensive. The last thing he wanted was to be pensive because he had a lot to think about and all of it fucking sucked.

He was angry, he realized with surprise about a glass and a half ago. The few times he had pictured their potential break-up he had never pictured anger to be part of the equation. He was almost never mad at Kurt. Sure, he had gotten annoyed and frustrated with him, especially since September. Even during the worst of their fights came from disappointment and insecurities. He could count on one hand the number of times they'd genuinely been mad at each other.

But he couldn't help it, because Kurt was actually kind of a dick. This was obviously something he had been thinking about for god only knows how long. Maybe he thought he was doing the noble thing by doing it in person instead of on the phone or over Skype. But really, who the hell has their boyfriend fly out to see them just so they can break up, especially when they'd be home for Thanksgiving in less than three weeks?

And was it better or worse that he did it as soon as he got there? He made it sound like his original plan was to have this absolutely perfect weekend first. And wouldn't that have made it even worse? To have all that then suddenly have nothing?

But he had left Dalton at 4.00 in the morning and they hadn't even made it to the bed and fucking seriously, who does that? And it wasn't like the trip had been planned out from ages. Kurt had invited him only last week. He didn't want to believe that this had been Kurt's plan from the start but if it wasn't, what the hell hand changed, if anything he had been under the impression that their relationship had been getting better.

"You're going to develop wrinkles, if you keep frowning like that."

"Bastard broke up with me," he finally slurred, glaring at his wine glass. "Minute we walked in the door. Just BOOM. We're over."

"Ouch. Didn't even make it to the bedroom? Worst cock block ever." Because he was an asshole too, but at least he was honest about it. None of this sneaking around before he tore you down bullshit. You knew when he was coming and you knew it wasn't going to end well and if you ever for a second thought differently than it was your own damn fault.

Blaine literally growled at him, "I figured it was something like that," he said after Blaine seemed a little less likely to shove the empty bottle down his throat. "When I found you here. You've been bouncing off the walls over this trip all week. Then you opt to hide out here, looking like you're thinking about taking up a career in arson? If that doesn't spell out ultimate trouble in paradise than I don't know what does."

"Why did you even come? I didn't even say anything."

Sebastian got up and walked over to the window, staring intently down at the bustling street below. "You say a lot, when you think you're saying nothing." Which didn't make any sense whatsoever and Blaine had enough to deal with, without Sebastian's stupid cryptic riddles. "Don't worry about it, killer," he said with an unexpectedly soft smile. "I'm sure you'll figure it out one day."

xxx

The next day he was still angry. And more hung over then he'd been since Wes' 18th birthday party. And he didn't even have his toothbrush with him to get the taste of decaying socks out of his mouth. He pulled on the clothes he was wearing the day before, unreasonably proud of the fact that it only took him two tries to get his shirt on right. Stumbling towards the kitchen he prayed that there would still be some coffee beans from the last time his father had been here. He knew he had to go back across town to get his stuff and there was no way that was happening without a truly unhealthy amount of caffeine in his system.

There was already a fresh pot of coffee in the kitchen with a spread of bread, butter, and jams laid out next to it. Eagerly, he poured himself a mug and popped the bread into the toaster. He couldn't help the groan of pleasure that came with the first sip; it was fresh and tasted divine. He cradled the mug until his toast was done. His stomach was nowhere near ready for butter, much less jam so he ignored them.

"Finally joining the land of the living?" Sebastian asked from where he was reading on the couch when Blaine walked into the living room. "I was beginning to think I'd need to call the paramedics or something. It's almost 3," he added.

"Fuck," he mumbled around his toast. Placing his mug on the table he moved to collapse next to Sebastian but the seat was already taken. By his bag. He knew it was his bag because Richard had made that lanyard for him.

"How did this get here?" He asked, kneeing it. "Did... did Kurt come by?"

"H'mm?" Sebastian asked unconcernedly. "No, he didn't. I got it. I had errands to do this morning and figured since I was in the area I might as well pick it up for you."

Blaine glared suspiciously. It seemed like he just happened to be in a lot of areas recently. "Did you see him?"

"Wasn't home. Babs said he went into work to help finish a project. She didn't seem to thrilled to see me. The feeling was more than mutual."

"Oh."

"She wanted me to tell you..." he hesitated, his dislike of Rachel Berry and being a good person clearly doing battle with the fact that this was Blaine. "She said that she was really sorry for what happened. She knew he was feeling the distance, and she knew about Marcus, but she didn't know he was planning this. And if you ever need anything she's still there for you," he recited.

It was a kind sentiment, but ultimately a lie. Everyone knew that it wasn't just the couple that broke up, all of their friends were dragged along too. Rachel might be his Maria, but she was Kurt's roommate. And it wouldn't just be her, it would be everyone from McKinley because Kurt was theirs in a way he had never been. He had only been Kurt's.

"Did you bring your laptop?" Blaine snapped. "I really fucking don't want to be here."

Sebastian quirked his eyebrow, letting Blaine know that he was willing to take the brunt of his obviously misplaced anger for not, but not to make it a permanent thing. "Our flight leaves at 6. You might want to shower first. I bought some soap and stuff while I was out."

"You're a condescending ass," Blaine informed him, snatching up his bag and slamming his half-drunk coffee cup down on the table. Sebastian's answering laughter followed him down the hall to the bathroom.

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**Thank you to all my beautiful readers and gorgeous reviewers. I adore all of you. 3  
And sorry if the editing in this wasn't the best. I did it while watching the RNC...**


	19. Chapter 17

**Short chapter is repentantly short. Apparently posting 3 chapters in like a week burnt me out a little. It took an embarrassingly long time to get even this together.**

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"Can we just..." he breathed through the nauseous feeling building in his throat, "not go back yet? Just drive around for a bit or something?" It was the first he had spoken since they left for LaGuardia.

Sebastian glanced at the clock, it was almost 10.30. "Don't see why not. Anywhere in particular you want to go?"

Blaine shrugged. He really didn't care where they went, he just didn't want to be back at Dalton. It was still early enough that people would be up and about, running back and forth between rooms. Sebastian, Vince, and Frey were the only three Warblers who didn't live in Connors, running into one of them seemed inevitable and they weren't expecting to see him until late tomorrow night, explaining why he was back early was not something he was ready for.

More than anything else, Blaine hated being unsure. He always had. As a child he was always expected to be composed. After he came out he felt the overwhelming pressure to be confident in everything he did. His own father, whom he had never once seen falter, was suddenly left reeling and it fell to him to keep pushing onwards, alone. Because in the day to day the only person supporting him was himself. Among family and friends alike it was something that just wasn't talked about. It was more acceptance than he could have hoped for, but less than he needed.

Even Tyler had been wary of talking about _it_. Unlike Blaine he hadn't chosen to come out. He was actually been the reason Blaine had, so he wouldn't have to be alone. He had persuaded Tyler to be proud of who he was. In the end Tyler probably had the right of it, desiring to lay low and not draw attention t. Their bond was severed in the time it took for the first punch to fall, left lying huddled and broken on the ground just like they were.

From the moment he woke up in the hospital he knew he could never be uncertain again because somehow it would nullify everything he went through, everything he had inadvertently forced Tyler to endure. So he had walked through the doors of Wexner Hall that first day with his head held high, boldly claiming his sexuality even as he flinched from the slamming of a door and counted exits in every room. And it had been the same push that brought him to McKinley's halls, unannounced during the first week of his junior year and found him putting his reapplication form into his mailbox a few months prior.

For this, though, he had no gut reaction to follow stubbornly through. He didn't know what to do or say, didn't want to do or say anything, didn't even want to think about his weekend. He wondered how long it would take for the rest of the guys to find out what happened if he didn't tell them himself. Not very long, if Kurt changed his facebook relationship status. Actually he was a little surprised that hadn't happened already but the fact that his phone hadn't blown up with concerned texts indicated that, for whatever reason, Kurt was keeping quiet on the social media front.

Just after midnight it started raining, gentle at first but within minutes it was practically monsooning. Sebastian's eyes darted back and forth, trying to scan the empty road and his fingers were clenched tight around the steering wheel.

"Fuck," he muttered, squinting at the windscreen.

"You okay?" Blaine asked quietly, not wanting to distract him. "We should pull over and wait it out. Rain like this hardly ever lasts that long."

Sebastian gave his head a minute shake. "Not this one. We've been getting warnings all week. It wasn't supposed to hit until late morning though." He chanced a quick glance over to the passenger seat before snapping his eyes back to the road. "We've been circling Westerville for about an hour. We're only about 10 miles away from Dalton."

"Just go slow."

"My favorite way," he tried to joke, failing only a little on delivery.

"Drive now, flirt later," Blaine commanded. He wouldn't, Blaine knew. Had only done it to relieve the tension. It had been weeks since Sebastian had so much as fluttered his eyelashes in Blaine's direction. Not because he wasn't still interested, Blaine was pretty sure. He still caught him looking sometimes

The 10 miles took almost half an hour to cover, but they did manage to make it back without incident. It was a close call when they almost ran into a car that had pulled onto the shoulder and neglected to leave their lights on.

They jumped out of the car and splashed through the parking lot. Blaine made a beeline for Connors and it was only when he reached the side door that he realized he was alone. Apparently, Sebastian had made for his dorm instead.

Instead of opening the door he leaned against it, taking a moment to watch the rain fall and encouraging the part of him that kept saying none of this was real. Somehow stepping through that door would change that though, make everything real in a way he hadn't yet allowed it to be.

He didn't want to be alone but he couldn't blame Sebastian for not following him. He'd done more than enough of that recently.

After another couple of minutes and the loss of feeling in his fingers, he finally pushed the door open and trudged up the stairs, the hollowed out feeling in his chest growing the further he proceeded. With a sigh he let himself into his room and mentally cursed himself for forgetting to turn the light off before he left.

"I was starting to think you drowned out there."

He whirled around, hands clutching at his chest and eyes comically wide. Sebastian was on the far side of his room, setting up a makeshift bed on Blaine's floor. "You scared the crap out of me."

"Like you don't want me here," he replied smoothly, fluffing his pillow.

xxx

"He _is _here!" Someone declared triumphantly and too loudly.

"What the fuck?" A voice muttered from somewhere on the floor. "Shut the fuck up."

Blaine rolled over and whined in agreement. Whatever time it was it was too early to be swarmed by a bunch of Warblers. They didn't seem to care as they surrounded the bed. One of them, Ben he thought, hurriedly apologizing as he apparently stumbled over Sebastian.

"I'll be back for my things later," Sebastian snapped, pushing his way through the crowd of boys on his way out of the room.

"Seb!" Blaine called after him to no avail.

"Wes has been texting us," Trent said without preamble.

"-You too, probably, but your phone must be off," Nick added.

"He seems to think you and Kurt broke up."

"Wes?" Blaine blinked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and sitting up. "Why would he know that?"

"So it is true?" Trent looked like it was his heart that had just been broken.

"Of course it's true. Why else would be here?" Dom whispered, poking Trent in the side for his insensitivity.

Blaine reached for his phone and turned it on, having forgotten to do so after his plane had landed. He had 47 texts and 5 missed calls. He ignored the majority of them and scrolled to Wes'. From what he gathered, Wes had run into Quinn at a party and she had pressed him for details about what had happened, forgetting that the New Directions gossip wheel turned abnormally fast. Wes had immediately texted Blaine (and Richard and David) after hours of not hearing anything he'd turned to Trent.

"So, what happened? Do we need to go to New York and take care of Hummel?" Nick asked. Of all the guys in the room (Blaine excepted) he had known Kurt the best. They had French together and bonded over a shared worship of Lady Gaga. He wasn't really shocked at his sudden change of heart, just like Blaine had never belonged to McKinley, Kurt had never really belonged to the Warblers but it didn't comfort him like he thought it should.

"It was my choice," he declared. "I ended it. I was only holding him back. It's for the best." He swallowed around the lie and told himself he was doing the right thing. Kurt had been through enough in his life, he didn't need to be hated for this too.

"But... You were just... I mean, you were so happy last week?"

"Bit too happy, really. It was kind of obnoxious," muttered Jeff.

"This really isn't something I want to talk about. It happened, its sucks, and I'd really like to forget it." He wouldn't, he knew. He'd couldn't actually imagine thinking about anything else for weeks. But if his friends could pretend then maybe he could too. Fake it until you make it, or some other stupid cliché that Cooper tried to live his life by.

One by one they nodded in understanding, even though Blaine could tell it was killing them to not know every single detail of what happened. For a bunch of guys they unashamedly enjoyed gossip. He would never stop being grateful that he had ended up here, surrounded by such fantastic friends.

"Today's pancake Sunday."

"Have you looked outside? There is no way in hell that I'm going out there," Trent protested.

"Make our own?" Dom suggested, adding to his embarrassingly long list of bad ideas. Food experiments were his specialty as he fancied himself a chef due to the hours of Food Network he watched with his mother and sister. He couldn't be more wrong and the inevitable resulting mess would probably end with all of them in detention.

"Make our own," Blaine agreed.

Three hours later they all had two days of kitchen duty and were secure in the knowledge that pancakes could not, in fact, be made in the microwave. But they hadn't set anything on fire, so it was a definite improvement over the Lasagna Incident of 2010.

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**LOVE, LOVE, LOVE all of your wonderful reviews. Next chapter should be of normal length. **


	20. Chapter 18

**I could waffle on about why this wasn't posted on Monday (like I maybe promised some of you. Oops.) Orrr, I could just give you two chapters in apology and we can all appreciate that fact that a large portion of it takes place near Sebastian's bed.**

**Anddd NEW SEASON STARTS TONIGHT. To clarify how I'm going to deal with that from here on out: I plan on picking the bits that I like and using them however I can that fits the story, but I've already planned a lot of SYH out, so it'll be really hodgepodge. For example, despite heavy-handed hinting, I don't plan on having Unique be part of New Directions, but Kitty and Ryder will both probably make an appearance. (Although very probably not how RIB intended.)**

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The Warblers number one rule quickly became 'do not mention Kurt Hummel' with the quickly added amendment 'or say anything that sounds like Kurt or Hummel. Or talk about porcelain.' (They didn't really understand that one, but the stormy look that clouded Blaine's face when Trent related a dinner party incident meant it made it onto the blacklist.)

In fact, the list of taboo topics was growing rapidly every day. It now took up two and a half sheets of paper. Blaine was still oblivious to its existence, but Sebastian had caught wind of it and hadn't been amused. They were now doing a better job of hiding it.

It wasn't that they were insensitive to their friend's plight. As soon as they had finished cleaning up from their pancake experiment they had all unfollowed Kurt on twitter and defriended him on facebook. They had also noted, with interest and concern, that Blaine had done the same thing not only to Kurt, but to everyone from New Directions.

They just didn't know what to do. All semester they had prepared for the break-up, at first jokingly, but as the relationship became more and more strained more seriously. By mid-October they thought they were in the clear, that they had blown things out of proportion and drastically exaggerated the problems. When Blaine left for New York they all breathed a sigh of relief, thankful that the beloved couple was going to make it.

Little had they known.

Suddenly all the half-baked plans and the fact that they had the downtown bakery on speed dial (when Blaine was upset he liked to eat strawberry rhubarb pie) didn't seem like enough.

They also didn't expect Blaine to be completely indifferent to all their efforts, no matter how paltry. He wasn't rude or ungrateful about it. He'd eaten the pie with them, commented on how it was delicious, only he was more in the mood for cinnamon apple, much more appropriate for the season. Offers of bad action movie night were politely brushed off as he headed to the gym or into Columbus to his fencing club. And he hadn't even talked to any of them about it. Not even Richard or, according to Vincent (who had unofficially been dubbed their SS liaison), Sebastian.

Aside from a little extra time he spent on Dalton's punching bag and his newfound dislike of certain words Blaine was carrying on with life as normal.

For his part, Blaine didn't notice the Warblers' conflict. He was waiting for the unquenchable anger inside of him to dissolve into sadness. He and Kurt were over, he kept reminding himself, testing to see if the thought brought on a sudden onslaught of tears instead of the urge to punch something. It never did, though and he couldn't remember ever being angrier in his life.

But he couldn't find a way to reconcile that with what he had told his friends. There was no explanation that he could think of that would justify his rage if he had been the one breaking things off with Kurt. His only option then was to just continue on, focusing on sectionals and filling up the now-empty hours however he could. His homework was done every night by midnight and he'd volunteered to arrange two pieces for the Warblers' Christmas show.

When he wasn't working he spent a lot of time pathetically laying around listening to music. Cher, he found, was suitably distracting, and P!nk properly expressive. But more often than not he found himself furiously flipping through songs trying to find something that didn't remind him of _him_.

The number one danger of dating someone as into music as you was that, after the break up, nothing in your music library was safe.

Frey had jokingly made him a CD of Norwegian metal, winking and saying that it was unlike anything he'd ever listened to before. Neither acknowledging what that really meant. It certainly hadn't brought up a deluge of memories, but he really couldn't say it was to his tastes. Sebastian had ended up taking it, claiming it reminded him of happier times.

He didn't know what he would have done without Sebastian. Not only was he the only person at Dalton who had any semblance of an idea as to what had actually happened, he was also the only person who didn't feel the obsessive need to talk about emotions. He accepted that Blaine had them and mostly ignored them whenever they cropped up. And he was continuing to be weirdly passive aggressively supportive, being there whenever Blaine needed him but acting like it was entirely normal.

Still, he was mildly embarrassed when he realized that he had essentially moved into Sebastian's dorm room.

After that first night Sebastian had refused to spend another night in Connors. Blaine couldn't really blame him, his room was practically a closet compared to Sebastian's.

They hadn't actually discussed there relocation. Sebastian had come to his room and gathered up his bedding then waited expectantly at the end of the hall until Blaine followed him to Thomas where a bunch of blankets happened to be stacked on the floor because he had just finished doing laundry.

That had been six days ago.

"Sorry I've kinda taken over," he said cutting himself another piece of pie. His books were spread out over Sebastian's desk and Sebastian's had been relegated to the window seat.

"I hadn't even noticed," he lied, setting his laptop aside and stretching, his shirt rising a couple inches to expose a pale strip of skin.

"You going out tonight?" Blaine asked tentatively. Sebastian Smythe was hardly the type to stay in and babysit on a Friday night.

Sebastian looked pointedly down at his sweatpants. "Wasn't planning on it. Everyone needs a week off every now and then."

"Oh." He felt guilty, knowing that Sebastian was really staying in for him, even if he'd never admit it. "You should go."

"It's fine." Sebastian grinned in amusement. "What's this about?"

"We've just been… spending a lot of time together lately. I've basically invaded your room and taken away all your privacy and interrupted your… normal routines." Dapper code for, _I'm the reason you haven't gotten laid in weeks._

"I don't know what you think I do in here, killer. But I can guarantee you haven't been interrupting anything."

"So Vince's roommate doesn't mind then?" He asked without thinking, wanting to hit himself as soon as Sebastian quirked his eyebrow. It wasn't an unfair question. The idea that Sebastian could be seeing someone and not hooking up with him was almost as unfathomable as the idea of Sebastian actually dating someone.

"Mind what?"

"You guys, you know, fooling around in there. Or whatever it is that you two do." He looked up defiantly, because he might as well say it now that it was out there. "It's none of my business. I just didn't realize prepubescent freshman was your type."

Sebastian began hysterically laughing. It was, Blaine thought, the most natural he had ever seen him; clutching his sides and practically rolling on the bed with tears of mirth in his eyes. It almost made it worth the fact that it was him that Sebastian was laughing at.

"Seriously?" he gasped. "Didn't we already cover this? Nothing is 'going on' with us. He's still a kid!" But he didn't seem particularly offended by the suggestion that something could be. "Just because I don't like 90% of the population, doesn't mean I can't have some friends. Also he's straight."

"Oh." Blaine didn't know why that surprised him as much as it did. Plenty of the Warblers were straight, and typically he wasn't one to stereotype, but there had just been something about Vince. "Are you sure?"

"He has a girlfriend," Sebastian deadpanned, still looking amused. "She's 12. They make me physically ill. He called her sugar muffin once. He wasn't being ironic."

"He's never mentioned her to me," Blaine exaggerated his pout to compensate for the sudden sensation of relief that was coursing through his body.

"I told him off for it during preseason. She was literally all he talked about for the first week. Looks like the kid took my words to heart." He looked a little too smug at the thought of having so much influence over someone's life. Or maybe he was still mentally laughing at Blaine.

"Shut up," he said, just in case it was the latter. "Don't you have an essay to write?"

xxx

By the second week of his newly single life, Blaine had opted to exile himself to Sebastian's room. He claimed it was for the good of society as a whole and given how waspish he was being the others were inclined to agree.

(He had finally realized that everyone was walking on eggshells around him when their competition for sectionals was announced. In typical Warbler fashion, the letter was open for the first time during rehearsal and Trent had spent a good five minutes fretting over it while everyone else tried not to get caught shooting concerned glances in Blaine's direction. He had finally gotten fed up and taken matters into his own hands, striding across the room and practically yanking it from Trent. He ripped it open, looked down and announced, "Not New Directions, then," before dropping it on the table and returning to his seat.)

There was a school wide betting pool on how long it would take Blaine and Sebastian to kill each other with their new not-so-secret living arrangements. Sebastian was getting increasingly short tempered and was spending more and more time running Dalton's trails or studying in the library. When the two were seen in public (almost always together) they seemed perfectly amicable, if not a little distant and the gossip mongering boys on Sebastian's floor reported they had yet to hear any shouting between the two. But everyone knew it was only a matter of time and the odds were in favor of Blaine snapping first.

Blaine noted Sebastian's increasing absence but every time he alluded to the fact that he could always just go back to Connors Sebastian assured him it was fine and he wasn't a bother. More than anything, Blaine didn't want to be alone so he stayed. And when Sebastian came back from wherever it was that he went, they made small talk or watched a movie and went to bed earlier than either of them normally would in a silence that precariously balanced between comfortable and suffocating.

Locking himself away in one room meant that boredom was a growing problem. For the first time that year, his teachers weren't assigning ridiculous amounts of homework; claiming they needed a breather between midterms and finals. A nagging voice kept telling him he should probably figure out that whole college thing, but a much louder voice reassured him that he had plenty of time to work that out. And, he was surprised to learn, there was really only so much time you could spend pointlessly browsing the internet.

Yesterday he had taken to plucking books of Sebastian's bookshelf and randomly reading a few pages (or trying to. Not all of them were in English and he had spent ages staring at Cyrillic symbols without a hope of deciphering them.)

It was as good an activity as any, so he slid off the bed and crouched in front of the shelves, pulling a dusty old book from the bottom one.

It was a hardback, forest green with a blue spine and looked like it hadn't been touched in years. Blaine's fingers traced over a stain at the bottom right hand corner. He flipped open the cover to find a careful flowing script proclaiming _Propriété de Remi Smythe._ The Remi, however, had been crossed out and below it, in a much messier, childish scrawl _Sebastian _had been written in.

He turned the page and the book revealed itself to be a French-English, English-French dictionary.

Going through the book felt weirdly personal, and Blaine kept telling himself he should stop. Random words in both parts were highlighted and underlined and pages had been dog eared. From looking through his other books, Blaine knew that Sebastian was an obsessive annotator and it was fascinating to watch the evolution of his handwriting in the margins. There were also scraps of paper randomly dispersed throughout. Most of them were bits of worksheets, but some of them looked like they were notes passed back and forth between Sebastian and his friends, including one that started _Mon Chéri _and was covered in hearts and flowers.

And then he started finding the photographs. There were six in total and they all looked like they were taken at the same time. A family vacation, he thought, on a beach somewhere. All of them featured a young boy, not even old enough to have started school and an older girl, probably between 10 and 13. They had the same blond hair, nose, and smile. In the first one the girl had the little boy (her brother?) balanced on her hip and was kissing his forehead as he stared, transfixed, at the sunset.

In one of the pictures there was also a man and a woman, the latter of whom looked so much like the girl she had to be her mother. The woman looked distantly familiar, and Blaine couldn't figure out why. He had no idea who any of these people were and whoever they were (probably Sebastian's cousins or something) he had most certainly never met them before. But he was mentally adding a couple years to her face and for some reason he couldn't unsee her in a blue gown.

He considered that his isolation was actually starting to drive him crazy.

Absentmindedly he turned the family photograph over and he was surprised to find something written on the back. _Smythe Family (Edumund, Chloe, Rem, and Sebastian). Nantucket (15 July 1998)_, he read.

Flipping the picture over again he stared hard at the faces of the mysterious Smythe family; the absentee parents and chronically distant sister. It didn't scream world's happiest family, but there was also nothing to hint that within ten years they'd be virtual strangers to each other.

He wondered if the smiles were a façade or if something had happened later that forced them all apart.

When the door opened he was still staring at the picture. In a moment of blind panic he tried to shove it back into the dictionary and ended up dropping the book on his foot.

"Fuck," he swore, grabbing at his smarting toe. "It's not what it looks like. I was just… You said I could look at your books. I didn't mean to find it," he blathered as Sebastian bent down to pick up the fallen book, his face going from amused to annoyed in seconds.

Straightening up he snatched at the picture, but Blaine didn't let go like he was supposed to and it ripped in two. Sebastian forced his half into the book before stalking to the bookshelf and cramming it back into place. "It's fine," he said shortly.

"You were a cute kid. I can't believe your hair was so _blond_."

"It's genetic."

"Yeah. You're mother…" He trailed off, finally putting two and two together and diving for his phone.

"What about her?"

"You told me you hadn't talked to her in months!" He was frantically scrolling through his old text messages.

"I haven't." Sebastian's voice was brittle and defensive.

Finally Blaine found what he was looking for and he jabbed his finger at the screen which was displaying a scowling woman in a periwinkle dress. He knew she had looked familiar, he had seen her every time he looked through his and Sebastian's conversations. He hadn't save all of them, of course but he had save this one from the day back in July, after Sebastian had left his tournament early to go to a gala. "You spent almost an hour yesterday talking to your _business partner_." He made sure to sneer the word in mockery.

"And?"

"They're the same fucking person." Placing the phone and the picture side by side he shoved them towards Sebastian. Although there was a 15 year difference it was unquestionably the same woman displayed on both.

"What's your point?" The vein on Sebastian's forehead was popping dangerously and his nostrils were flared in warning.

"She's your fucking mother for chrissake!"

"Then she can try acting like it some time," Sebastian was yelling back. "Until then," his voice had calmed down and he sounded tired, "Chloe Smythe helped co-found an organization with me. And that is all."

"That's really fucked up."

"At least my parents don't call me a fag behind my back."

He should have replied with a childish 'like you'd even know.' Had meant to, in fact, complete with an eye roll. And then Sebastian would have shot back with a 'what are you, 5?' and the argument would have slowly diffused and they would have settled down to watch another episode of Breaking Bad and that would have been that.

When he opened his mouth what came out instead was an even more childish and certainly more hurtful, "At least my family loves me."

The worst part, even worse than the words themselves, was that he didn't regret saying it, not right away at least. (He wouldn't until the middle of the night when he couldn't stop picturing the way the fire just went out of Sebastian's eyes and his shoulders pulled closer together.) But as Sebastian froze, jaw snapping closed, all he felt was a sick vindictive triumph.

Spinning on his heel, Sebastian left the room. Blaine gathered up as much of his stuff as he could before he followed suit.

Unsurprisingly, he didn't sleep at all that night. First he was too busy fuming, then he was being wracked by guilt. Come 6.30 he sat on his bed, staring intently at his door, waiting for Sebastian to get him for breakfast like he had before.

At 6.40 he realized he wasn't coming.

By 6.45 he was standing in line for French toast in the Flatts.

"Mind if I sit here?" Awkwardly he hovered over the empty chair next to Sebastian, who shrugged in response and didn't look up from his cereal. "Look, I didn't mean what I said."

"Yes, you did. It's not like it isn't true."

"Well, I didn't mean to say it. And I shouldn't've," he amended, poking halfheartedly at his breakfast.

"I should have kept my mouth shut too. I know you're going through stuff, or whatever. And I shouldn't have let it affect me."

"You don't have to mollycoddle me, Sebastian."

"Says the guy who blew up at me for no reason last night." The corners of his mouth tugged up into a small smile.

"Fuck you." But there was no malice in the words. He finally dug into his breakfast, glad that _that_ was over with, blowing over as quickly as it arose.

Sebastian had finished eating and was now nursing his second cup of coffee contemplatively. "Let's never do that again."

"Fight?" Judging by the withering look Sebastian was giving him he was wrong.

"Apologize for the dumb shit we say," he said dryly. "Look. I'm an ass, and no matter how much you act like this happy, go-lucky, dapper gentleman you have a surprisingly short fuse. This friendship is going to get really old, really quickly if we have to constantly say sorry. Especially with you angsting all over the place," he added, ducking when Blaine launched a grape at his face.


	21. Chapter 19

"San?" He asked in confusion, double checking the caller ID.

"You best be almost ready to go," she said without preamble.

"Go where? Now? Can I wear my uniform?"

"Absofuckinglutely not. We're still 20 minutes away. Gives you plenty of time to get all hobbity."

"We? What are you even talking about?"

"20 minutes," she replied shortly, opting to ignore his questions. He heard an echoing shriek of what sounded like 'girls night!' before the line went dead.

"So that was Santana," he explained because Sebastian was looking at him in judging amusement. "Apparently I'm going out with her and… someone tonight." He still wasn't sure what was going on, but time was rapidly ticking away and if Santana said 20 minutes she really meant 15 and he really didn't want her bursting in on him naked… again.

"Fun." He made the word sound like anything but.

"We're probably just going to go to the movies, but you can come… if you want to?" Blaine offered. They had been planning on catching up on some tv shows and working on their personal statements that evening and he felt a little bad about the abrupt change in plan.

"Spend an entire night with Shaqueera and her public school posse? No thank you. I'd rather contract VD."

"Would it kill you to be nicer to people?" huffed Blaine.

"Probably," he quipped without a trace of remorse. "I'd prefer not to risk it, just in case." He sauntered over to his dresser and began rummaging through it, pulling up shirts and looking at them critically.

Blaine blinked in confusion. "Wait, are you coming with us?"

"I just said I wasn't." Sebastian selected the same blue and green stripped shirt he had worn when they first went out. "But the boys at Exile must be missing me. I haven't been in weeks."

"Exile?"

"Scandals isn't the only gay bar in all of Ohio, you know."

Blaine hadn't ever thought about it before. "But then why-"

"You have less than 10 minutes," Sebastian pointed out, interrupting him. "And _Santana_," he made an exaggerated point of using her real name, "doesn't strike me as the type of person who likes to be kept waiting."

As much as he hated to admit it, Sebastian was right. So he resolved to interrogate him on his clubbing habits later and practically sprinted back to Connors.

He had only just finished tying his bow tie and checking to make sure he had his wallet when he started to hear two sets of very feminine giggles floating up the hallway.

Technically they weren't allowed in the dorms at all. Actually, given the fact that it was evening study hours they shouldn't even be on campus. He was fortunate to be on a floor of all upperclassman, because it meant they all either went to the library between 7.30 and 9.30 or they could study with their doors closed.

Making sure to grab his jacket, he rushed out into the hallway, too concerned with making sure they stayed quiet to be excited to see them.

"Muffinpie!" Sugar exclaimed, disregarding his frantic hand motions.

In his panic, Blaine did the only thing he could think of and clapped his hand over her mouth, cutting off her piercing shrieks. "I thought you would wait for me outside," he hissed, releasing Sugar's mouth only to grab her and Santana's wrists and begin tugging them down the hall to the back staircase.

"Why all the mystery, Blainers?" Santana grinned, knowing how much he hated to be called that. "It's like you don't want all of your friends to know about us. I'm hurt."

"Shh!" He rushed them down the stairs and out the side door, sighing when they made it to the parking lot without raising any alarms. "Its study hall," he explained, casting an apologetic look at Sugar who still looked offended at her rough treatment. "And girls are never allowed in the dorms."

"Just shut up and tell us you're glad to see us," Santana commanded, pulling him into a hug. He stiffened at first, he wasn't sure that he and Santana had ever hugged before and the fact that it was her initiating it took him by surprise.

"I'm _so_ glad to see you," he replied dutifully, tightening the embrace and laughing as he felt Sugar plaster herself to his back to join in. He started at the sound of the car door behind them opening up.

"No fair," Rachel whined. "I want a hug too."

Blaine froze. He hadn't known who to expect after he got off the phone with Santana, but Rachel was probably last on the list. He didn't even know if that she was back in Ohio. With a pang he wondered if that meant Kurt was too. He had assumed the would be coming back, Thanksgiving was next week and Mr. Schuester's wedding the following weekend. Not he would planned on going anymore.

"I, uh, decided to wait out here. I didn't want to cause too much of a fuss with all you Dalton boys by going inside," she said, but the hesitancy of her voice told him that, really, she wasn't sure that he wanted to see her.

Untangling himself from Sugar and Santana he gripped her in a fierce hug, even going so far as to pick her up and give her a bit of a twirl. Although his throat was suspiciously tight he laughed along with her and held her closer. Gently he set her down and took a step back, staring intently at the three girls.

He had been so, so sure that the end of his relationship with Kurt had also been the end of his friendship with them. The guilty but obstinate look in Rachel's eye told him that Kurt didn't know she was there and wouldn't be happy if he found out and Santana was wearing the same defiant bitch glare she had on when she stepped between him and Karofsky at the Night of Neglect, declaring that _this _was her choice and daring the world to do something about it. Sugar just looked cheerfully excited to be going along.

"So where are we going?" Blaine asked, sliding into the backseat, despite their protests that he should sit up front.

"Just thought we'd see what nightlife Columbus has to offer," Santana grinned.

As it turned out, Columbus didn't have that much to offer. At least not on a Thursday.

"This place sucks, compared to New York," Rachel declared as they stood huddled around a table near the back of an almost empty bar. The bartender hadn't even bothered to ID them, obviously just thrilled to have something to actually do that wasn't the newspaper crossword.

"I never thought I'd miss Louisville," admitted Santana. "And that's almost all shitastic house parties."

"This is so much fun!" Sugar yelled, throwing her hands up in the air and spinning in circles. Blaine wasn't sure if this was her first time at a bar, or if it was just her natural sense of obnoxious enthusiasm shinning through. But at least she was enjoying herself, unlike the rest of them.

"Anyone want to dance?" He asked half heartedly. Music was pumping through the speakers and he, Santana, and Sugar each had a couple of drinks in them already. Dancing was the next logical step in their evening. Rachel stopped tracing patterns in the condensation of her water glass long enough to shrug in indifference.

"I should probably stay here and guard the drinks," Santana said.

"Yeah, because that one drunkard in the corner might manage to pull his wasted ass all the way over to our table and spike our drinks," snipped Rachel, rolling her eyes and looking pointedly at Santana. Blaine had to admit that she had a point, he was the only other person there and it was extremely unlikely that he'd even be able to stand up, never mind make it all the way to their table without one of them noticing.

"Wohoo! Dancing!" Sugar cried and dragged Blaine off towards the dance floor. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Rachel and Santana arguing with each other. It ended when Santana stomped off in the opposite direction while Rachel made her way over to them, looking frustrated.

"Everything okay?" He shouted over the unreasonably loud music.

"Peachy," she smiled brightly, grabbing Blaine's hand and forcing him into a spin. The three of them danced together for another couple minutes before Santana returned, carrying a drink for herself and one for Blaine.

"They're doubles," she yelled, pushing the glass into his hands and taking an over cautious sip of hers. Blaine smiled gratefully and raised his glass to her. It was going to take a lot more than that to make the night enjoyable, but it was as good a place as any to start.

Several hours and a couple of beers later he was floating somewhere between the edges of buzzed and drunk. Sugar was flat out wasted and even Santana was wobbling on her alarming high heels, although she was insisting it was because her feet hurt, not because she was intoxicated.

"Time to head home, I think," Rachel announced, warily eyeing her drunken companions. She was especially concerned about Blaine. After nearly two weeks of consoling a depressed Kurt, she had expected Blaine to be in similar shape, although maybe with a little less crying. She hadn't anticipated the thinly veiled anger than kept breaking through throughout the night.

"And one last round of shots!" Sugar had just reappeared from the bar and handed all four of them shot glasses. "Yours is just water," she sniffed and tossed her hair over her shoulder, when Rachel opened her mouth to protest. "Geez. I'm not dumb."

They downed their last shots, not even grimacing at the taste anymore before unsteadily making their way to the door. Sugar was having difficulty getting her arms into her jacket and an exasperated Rachel had to help. Blaine made a mental note to remember to never let Rach by on DD duty ever again. Then he made a mental note to remember his mental note because he was _drunk_ and would probably forget. By the time they made it to the car he had made a mental note to try and remember what the mental note he was supposed to be remembering was. And then he got confused forgot about it entirely.

"Sorry I'm not much fun," he apologized, flopping into the car. He had tried to have a good time, he really did. It wasn't his fault that everything in the world made him remember his dumb ex and how much he had loved him, and maybe still did, but he couldn't because Kurt was a dick of epic proportions and fuck, sometimes he really fucking hated him. A lot.

The girls all rushed to assure him that he hadn't been. That he'd been a perfect gentleman. The life and soul of the party. If that was true, they attended really shitty parties.

What he really needed was a distraction. Anything that would keep him from thinking about Kurt Hummel's stupid face and stupid voice and the even stupider tinkling of his laughter that Blaine used to love but now loathed, because it was laughing at him and not with him. Fucking anything that wasn't recalling coffee dates and movie nights and quiet kisses and wondering where everything went wrong and why the fuck he hadn't noticed.

"We'll have to do this again sometime," Santana sarcastically commented as Rachel put the car in park in front of the Dalton dorms. "It was a blast."

"You're just jealous you didn't have as much fun as Sugar." The three of them glanced over at the girl who was ungracefully sprawled across the front seat. They hadn't even pulled out of the parking lot before she had passed out in the front seat, having enthusiastically bellowed 'SHOTGUN' the moment the car had come into view.

Santana tugged his hand into her lap and looked unusually serious as she stared at him. "You take care of yourself, hobbit, you hear me? Lady lips is a fucktard for letting you go."

He smiled tightly, trying to be grateful for her support and receiving an extra squeeze for his efforts. "Maybe I'll see you when I'm home," he offered in reply, pulling his hand away and fumbling with the door.

"You want me to walk you up?" Rachel asked, sliding out of the car and grabbing his arm to steady him. He took a moment to adjust to the change in position and evaluate how intoxicated he actually was. Finally he shook his head and took a couple experimental steps in a mostly straight line.

Blaine had no plans to return to his room and Rachel would probably be less than pleased to walk him to Sebastian's. He wasn't sure whether the other boy was back from his own night out yet. He hoped he wasn't, because it was still pretty early and if he was back that meant his night hadn't gone any better than Blaine's. Also, if Sebastian was still gone Blaine could commandeer his bed. It was sinful how comfortable that thing was.

His back slammed into the car as Rachel suddenly launched herself at him. She rose up on tiptoes to press a kiss to his temple. Blaine always forgot how short she really was, there was just something about her presence that commanded attention and made her seem bigger somehow. "You'll always be my Tony," she whispered.

He didn't say anything because it felt an awful like she would never be his anything again.

Rachel pulled away and he wondered if she too felt the shift in their relationship. "Take care, Blaine Warbler" she said in a way that sounded an awhole lot like goodbye.

"You too, Rachel Barbra Berry. I can't wait to see your name in lights," he waved his hand in front on them, as if picturing it.

"Right next to yours," she recited. It had been something they joked about after West Side Story, rising to the top together. Taking Broadway by storm.

"Drive safe," he said, opening Rachel's door.

He hated Kurt for this too. For the ache that filled his chest as he watched them drive away and the fact that he was now Maria-less as well as boyfriendless. His fingers started to itch like they always did when he wanted nothing more than to punch something and he could feel the yell of frustration building in his throat, dying to be unleashed because of how un-fucking-fair everything was.

He balled his hands into fists three times, allowing his nails to dig into his palms and took a deep breath before stalking into Thomas, not even bothering to use the side door. Part of him hoped he would be caught and he was a little disappointed when he made it to the second floor without seeing anyone, his mind full of the stupidly childish image of him yelling at whoever tried to apprehend him. He never would, he knew, but if he couldn't actively let out his aggression he could at least fantasize about it.

Noting that strip of light shining from underneath Sebastian's door, Blaine twisted the knob and pushed the door open, fully ready to start up with a stream of profanities that expressed his exact feelings on life. But the words caught somewhere in his throat because Sebastian was bending over his desk with only a towel wrapped around his waist and water dripping down his back.

"How was the movie?" He asked, straightening up and turning around.

It wasn't that Blaine had never noticed that Sebastian was attractive, it was something he'd been aware of since the moment he first saw him, even if he tried to deny it on more than one occasion. So the hot twisting in his stomach wasn't really unexpected, he had felt it to a lesser extent every time he saw the other boy shirtless, but he hadn't expected the accompanying desire to lick the water droplets from his stomach.

He dragged his eyes down Sebastian's body. The towel stopped mid-calf (and how had he never noticed exactly how fantastic Sebastian's calves were?) and he could just barely see the tip of a scar peeking out from under it. It was from Sebastian's accident and he knew it twisted up; ending somewhere above where his running shorts came too. Blaine was struck by the sudden urge to see just how far up it went and to find out whether it ended in the back or front of his leg.

"You feeling okay, killer?" Sebastian was looking worriedly at his friend.

Blaine stalked forward, not really sure what he was doing but not wanting to stop either. Hadn't he just wanted something to take his mind off everything? If this wasn't a distraction then god knew what was. He watched as Sebastian's expression flickered from worried to confused when Blaine's hands made contact with his bare chest, pushing him forcefully towards the bed.

"What the hell?" Sebastian asked as he was forced down, head bouncing off the headboard with a dull_ thunk_ before being pinned down by Blaine straddling his waist.

"This doesn't mean anything," growled Blaine, biting his way down Sebastian's chest. "I am using you for sex," he clarified, ripping open the towel that had been tied around Sebastian's waist and beginning to suck a bruising kiss onto his hip, "because I want to forget."

"You were just dumped by the love of your life." Sebastian struggled to sit up and push the shorter boy away, trying to listen to the sober part of his brain saying this was probably a really bad idea.

"Doesn't bother me if it doesn't bother you," he retorted.

"Oh fuck, yes," Sebastian found himself agreeing because what else could he say when his rapidly hardening cock hit the back of Blaine's throat?

xxx

Hangovers were unpleasant and he was never drinking that much again, he decided upon waking up in the morning. There was a persistent throbbing in his head, exasperated by the rays of sunshine that he was pretty sure were literally trying to stab his eyeballs. Which was weird, because the sun didn't reach his side of the dorm until late in the morning and it _felt_ early.

After a quick fumble (head still burrowed under the blankets) he located his phone and confirmed it was just after 7.

Too early.

Also not his phone. Sebastian's phone. Because he was in Sebastian's room. In his bed. Wearing nothing. Except a bowtie. He spared a minute to be thankful that he hadn't strangled himself in his sleep before moving on to the part where he freaked out a little.  
"Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck. Fuck."

"Good morning to you too, killer."

Scrambling out from under the covers he looked around trying to locate his taunter. Sebastian was lounging on his window seat, book in hand and looking like he'd been up for hours.

"This seemed a respectable distance. I rarely find myself in quite this position, so forgive me if my protocol is rusty."

"Waking up with a drunken hook-up?"

"It's not an everyday occurrence, but it has happened. If I wasn't in a fit state to leave, for example." Immediately the part of Blaine's brain controlled by his dick began supplying images of what that would look like while the more rational part chanted 'he means he was too drunk to drive.' "But we almost always go to theirs. And I've never had a brought anyone back to my dorm room."

"Oh," was all he could think to say. Part of him felt oddly pleased at being the first. Most of him felt horrified that it had even happened.

"You said you were just going to the movies," Sebastian accused. "I didn't realize you were drunk at first. The kissing part came somewhat later."

"No, I know," Blaine rushed to assure because it sounded alarmingly like an apology, like Sebastian thought he had unwittingly taken advantage of Blaine when really it was the other way around. "I mean, I remember. I wasn't that drunk. I remember everything." He blushed. The tension left Sebastian's shoulders.

"Excellent," he declared before carefully marking his place, throwing his book aside, and striding across the room.

"Not sure that's the exact word I'd use to describe this." He curled up on himself as Sebastian perched at the end of the bed.

"It's exactly the word I'd use. You find yourself in a unique position, my troubled friend," he explained. "As you said last night, you just want to forget. The obvious solution is a rebound fuck. It could happen, once, twice, on rare occasions, or every half hour. But you're not me, you could never have casual anonymous sex. You need to know, if not trust, the other person. I am the perfect solution. You know me, like me, even. I am much more than willing," he smirked. "And not only do I not do relationships, I am also somewhat of an authority on being a rebound."

"You think this is going to be a reoccurring... occurrence?"

Sebastian shrugged. "I think it's going to be whatever you want it to be. Ball's in your court, killer. Now if you excuse me," he stood up, "I am going to go get breakfast. I will not be offended if you happen to be gone when I get back. I will be offended if you ignore me for the rest of the year. This," he indicated the bed and, by extensions, Blaine's naked form, "only happened if you wanted it to."

* * *

**Semi-important Author's Note: Holy jesus wow this story has come so far. When I first conceived of it way back in May it was going to be a 5 or 6 chapter Klaine story and look at it now, over 10 chapters longer than I ever thought it would be and (finally) Seblainey.  
Sync Your Heart is 100% my baby and I have every intention of seeing it all the way through. It's almost entirely planned out by now and just itching to be written.  
I don't really want to say I'm putting this on hiatus, because that sounds serious and daunting. But at the end of the week I'm moving to a different continent and that is actually kind of a really effing big deal. I can't say when my next update will be, although I can't imagine I'll post anything for at least 2 weeks, and I can't tell you how frequently they'll come out after that. Once I've adjusted to my new life I hope to be able to re-establish a posting schedule, but I can guarantee it won't be anywhere near as frequent as it has been this summer.  
Whether you've followed this story from the very beginning or you're relatively new I love all of you and your support thus far. The reviews I've received have been amazing and there's no way I would have gotten this much done without them.**


	22. Chapter 20

**Bonus points if you can guess which paragraph I (ironically) wrote last Thursday afternoon.**

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Blaine had fled the room, barely waiting until he was sure that Sebastian had made it down the hall. He hadn't even bothered to put on his shoes and had confused more than one student when he ran by them in his bare feet. By 4 he had just about plucked up the courage to maybe think about possibly going back to Sebastian's when his mother had called, reminding him not to be late because the Millers were coming over for dinner.

All thoughts of his late night tryst were pushed out of his mind as he scrambled around his room, tripling checking to make sure he had everything he would need for homework and shoving a week's worth of socks and underwear into a bag. Not for the first time he was endlessly thankful for Dalton's uniform, because it meant that he still had a wide range of clothes at home.

His mother would disapprove of him showing up still in uniform, but his father would be pleased; able to boast to their guests that yes, his son went to _the _Dalton Academy, without actually having to say anything. Somehow his father would find a way to imply that he was at the top of his class. He would only ever imply it because he didn't know, hadn't asked after Blaine's academic progress since he had started middle school. (Dalton, of course, didn't believe in class ranking and the unhealthy, competitive atmosphere it created so technically no one was top of the class. He wasn't quite Sebastian or Nick, but he hadn't gotten below a B+ since his sophomore year.)

Traffic had been awful and he made it home mere minutes before the Millers arrived. And this seemed to set the tone for the rest of the week; his mother insisting on reminding him a million times about when things needed to be done and his father looking like Blaine's every breath was only just not a crushing disappointment to the Anderson name.

Thanksgiving, by nature, was a stressful time. Both of his parents worked until the last minute and the anticipation of spending any amount of time with the Anderson clan always caused a certain amount of anxiety, but this year they were hosting which meant Claudia Anderson went from being maybe a little too uptight to completely neurotic as she tried to get everything done while trying to fit in a 40 hours of work.

On Sunday Cooper had called saying he might not be able to make it. Blaine had been out running errands at the time, but whatever had been said was enough to ensure the Coop was in Ohio come Tuesday and his welcome home dinner had been a very stiff affair. It had been made all the worse when, halfway through dessert, Coop had asked him what Kurt was doing for Thanksgiving. Retrospectively, he had probably just been trying to show his support and he had no way of knowing what had happened because Blaine had never told him.

He could only bring himself to partially regret his snappy retort and abrupt departure from the dinner table, even when he had been given the tedious task of polishing the silver the next morning.

By Thursday afternoon he was over being disappointed about the fact that his relationship with his brother was the same as ever and the fact that he and his father's might as well be strangers to each others because, as bad as they were, their home was being invaded by the rest of the Midwest Andersons (32 in all, and one random girlfriend who was only tolerated because her father had invented something terribly clever and now owned his own island in the Caribbean). If they didn't band together they wouldn't make it out alive.

The thing about being an Anderson was that everyone was a disappointment. No one had hope of measuring up and it was really pointless to try. Not that that kept anyone from trying, but the key was to never expect your attempts to be noticed. It was, in fact, best if you didn't try at all. Cooper, for example, was hardly ever talked about because he had decided to become an actor. This was so awful a concept that silence was the only way to deal with it. Similarly, their cousin Lilliana (a fashion designer and dating a man 15 years her senior) was never even mentioned if she wasn't in the room.

Unfortunately, Blaine was still young enough that he didn't qualify as a complete failure in the eyes of his relations. Instead they took it upon themselves to talk at him about his life choices. His brief stint in _public school_ was summarily torn apart, while his transfer back to Dalton was lauded. His interest in singing was scoffed at, although forgiven because of his involvement in sport. His love life was vaguely hinted at, although thankfully never touched on.

What his relatives did or did not know about his sexuality was something of a mystery to him. He had come out to his parents, brother, and two of his cousins. His father, he knew, had told at least one of his brothers, maybe both but (as of last year) not their sister. It wasn't something Blaine was specifically hiding but given that he only saw most of them during the holidays it had never really come up. If he were ever specifically asked about it he wouldn't lie but until then he would say as little on it as he did on every other subject.

After they were done critiquing Blaine it was only logical to turn on his mother, whom they had never really respected. While her family was well-off, they weren't rich by any means and her marriage into the family certainly hadn't benefitted the family name. Being from New York, she couldn't quite be considered quaint, but it was certainly hinted at. Additionally, all of the shortcomings of her children were placed solely on her shoulders. Ironic, in Blaine's opinion, because she was a far better parent than anyone in the Anderson family and certainly better than his father.

Naturally, none of this was said directly. It was all petty comments and snide allusions and a phrase as innocuous as 'I see you got new curtains' actually meant 'every decision you've ever made in life has been wrong. You should be ashamed of what you have done to this family.' Or something similar.

As hosts of the evening they, of course, were worse off than everyone else. Although that didn't mean the rest of the family didn't get their share. Eleven year old Adeline was nearly reduced to tears because she had decided to take Spanish, of all the ghastly languages. Blaine had clenched his hand into a fist and casually mentioned that knowing Spanish would have been useful to him when he was in the school play last year (it wouldn't have been, but he doubted his family actually knew enough about West Side Story to know that.) and that had sparked an immediate outrage.

His own father pretended to be surprised by his participation in such a pointless and fanciful activity (or maybe it wasn't pretend. It was always possible he genuinely didn't know). How being so utterly ignorant of your children's activities was considered the preferable option Blaine would never understand .

By the time the door closed behind the last person on their way out Blaine was planning the best way to come down with the flu for Christmas.

On Friday it was practically expected that the four of them stay out of each other's way as the recovered from the ordeal that was hosting a holiday. No one, not even Claudia Anderson, was allowed to approach the study and the only circumstances under which you entered the kitchen was if you wanted to spend the rest of the day assisting with the clean up in a tense and unhappy silence. Normally he and Coop would fit in an hour or so of brotherly bonding, playing catch in the yard or watching a game on tv, but when he had knocked on Blaine's door he had steadfastly ignored it and turned his music up louder.

For the first time in weeks his mind wasn't consumed with thoughts of Kurt and memories of his weekend in New York. It was certainly a change he had been hoping for, but he wasn't really sure the change was a welcome one.

His relationship with Sebastian had, actually, been surprisingly uncomplicated. For the most part he always knew where they stood. But now things were all sorts of complicated and it was entirely Blaine's fault. And even worse, what happened next was entirely up to him.

And he had no idea what to do. Not just about this, but about everything. Over the past year he had built his entire life around his now ex-boyfriend. Some days he felt like he didn't even recognize himself anymore.

Really, when it boiled down to it there was only one way to solve this. Because there was still one person who often knew him better than he knew himself. Who had seen him during some of his lowest moments and who, most importantly, wouldn't be filled with righteous indignation about Blaine's more recent choice of bed partners.

**To: Richard  
GET ON SKYPE NOW. I NEED TO TALK TO YOU**

After twenty minutes he sent off another message reading **NO REALLY**.

He had no idea what Richard was doing at that given moment. It was more than likely that his sister had dragged him out for Black Friday shopping and he actually couldn't get to a computer (and it would explain his lack of response. His arms were probably laden with bags and packages).

An hour later he had just worked himself into a borderline-hysterical state. Fortunately, the sound of his Skype ringtone pulled him from his fretting.

"What's up, Buttercup?" Richard asked cheerfully, because he would never stop thinking that was the funniest thing in the history of ever. Normally Blaine would at least humor him with a smile and a resigned eye roll.

Today he settled on blurting out, "We had sex."

Tilting his head to the right, Richard gave it a slow shake. "Nope. Pretty sure I would remember that. Not for lack of trying on your part, though. You're a very handsy drunk," he squinted his eyes into a mock-glare.

"At least I don't get licky," Blaine shot back. "And I wasn't talking about you and me. Why do you always assume everything revolves around you?"

"Oh, I'm sorry. I was just using my language's common definition of the word 'we'. Silly me, I forgot that in Blanguage that actually means..."

Blaine rolled his eyes at Richard's stupid made-up word that he undoubtedly thought was very clever. It wasn't. He licked his lips and took a deep breath before continuing. "Me and Sebastian," he admitted. "I slept with Sebastian."

Richard stayed quiet for several long minutes. Blaine watched as he struggled to figure out what to say and the pure series of conflicting emotions playing across his face was, objectively, quite comical. Finally, after coming up with nothing, he settled for asking, "He was the captain of the Warblers last year?"

It wasn't as innocent a question as it sounded and Blaine knew it. The implications of it expanded beyond just his role as group leader to his actions during that time period. Or, at least, whatever Richard knew about that. (Probably a lot. David would have been unafraid to express his opinions on the matter, and Richard spoke to the other Warblers, although with less frequency. And Blaine had been known to mention him every once and a while.)

"Trent mentioned you were friends," continued Richard when Blaine didn't respond. "I hadn't realized it progressed that far. Is that why? You and Kurt?"

"What? No. I would never!"

"With him?"

"With anybody!" Maybe, given the limited time frame between his break up and his and Sebastian's hook up, he shouldn't have been as offended as he was. But he wasn't a cheater and never would be. Cheating was the coward's option and he had more than enough of that for his lifetime. "Before break, I went out and got drunk. And it was right after New York. And I'm just so tired of feeling this way."

"Sad?"

Blaine shook his head. "Angry. I'm just so fucking angry." He bit his lip, suddenly mindful that Richard, like the rest of the Warblers, didn't know what had actually happened. It was too late now and all he could do was hope that he didn't try and dig deeper. "Everything's turned out so different than I thought it would. And I hate feeling this way. And I just, didn't want to anymore."

"So you used Sebastian to get your mind off things?"

The phrase made Blaine flinch, like Sebastian was some poor innocent soul that he had taken advantage of for his own selfish purposes. "He was more than willing."

Richard laughed reassuringly. "Of that I have no doubt." He drummed his finger against his lower lip and Blaine knew that he was tapping his foot too. The left one, always the left one. "So how are thing between you two then?"

"Haven't really seen or talked to him since. I left for break before we could talk about it and dinner was here last night…" Richard groaned sympathetically. "But he did say that we could keep," he waved his hands demonstratively.

"Sleeping togther?" Fondly he smiled at the webcam. "So are you going to?"

"I sort of hoped you would tell me." Instantly Blaine felt like the freshman kid he was when he first met Richard—unsure about everything and just looking for anyone who could figure out anything for him. He hated being that person then and he hated it even more now. "But I guess that's something I have to work out on my own."

"Right in one. Although if you feel the need to go into detail on your _encounter_," he drawled lewdly. "To help clear your head."

"You, sir, are a dirty, dirty old man. Preying on innocent youths like me to feed your masturbatory fantasies." He clucked his tongue and tried to look disappointed but couldn't quite keep the smile off his face which, he knew, had been Richard's goal all along.

When they finally hung up, Blaine flopped backwards onto his bed. Even if Richard hadn't been specifically helpful with his situation, just talking to his friend and one-time mentor had cleared his head and it meant he could think clearly about it for the first time since he had woken up naked in Sebastian's bed.

It wasn't that he had anything against casual sex. He didn't, for instance, think any differently of Sebastian because he had copious amounts of it. Well, the sheer number of one night stands Sebastian had was a little disconcerting to him. But Wes hadn't really had a girlfriend in years (even whatever he was doing with Marguerite was more a friends-with-benefits- deal than anything else) and Richard had a couple of flings here and there over the years. Other people could have it, he just wasn't sure that he could.

Sebastian had been right when he said that Blaine would never be able to go out and just pick up some random guy. He couldn't help that sex and romance were unquestionably linked in his mind. Just kissing Rachel had given him a sexuality crisis because he couldn't reconcile the action with a lack of feeling. The feeling didn't need to be love, but there had to be something there.

He didn't know how he felt about Sebastian. It had never been an area that he let himself explore. Obviously, there had always been something there. From the moment they met Sebastian had been able to render Blaine into little more than a blushing school boy. It was nice to be so obviously wanted and he'd be lying if he said he didn't enjoy the other boy's flattery. And they had been friends (until they weren't. But that was an issue well and truly dealt with) which meant Blaine obviously like him in some regard.

But he had been with Kurt. And now he was only just not with Kurt. It wasn't appropriate for him to think of anyone else in that way. It wouldn't be fair to any of the parties involved. And even if he maybe could like Sebastian and hated Kurt, he had been stupidly in love with his ex.

And, no. It was too soon to be thinking about any of this.

So it had been a thing that happened. He had taken advantage of Sebastian in a moment of weakness and that wasn't really okay; even if Sebastian was more than okay with it.

It wasn't necessarily a mistake, but it wasn't not one either.

Blaine and Sebastian were friends. Good friends, even. Sure, Blaine had no idea what Sebastian's favorite color was (or any of those other trivial details he normally considered important) and he probably wouldn't be able to pick out the perfect Christmas present for him. But he always knew what movie Sebastian wanted to watch. And Sebastian had a steady supply of pie for him when he needed it. And they just _were_ and it was comfortable and easy and _them_.

Friends. It was a good word. A sturdy word. A reliable word.

He and Sebastian were friends and that was it. Friends who, admittedly, had really great drunken sex one night. But it was a one-time thing.

Of course friends was an easy conclusion to come to in the solitude of his room, on the bed where he had lost his virginity and in a place Sebastian had never been. There was no room for him there, no room for a hypothetical them. When it came to actually standing in the same hallway as Sebastian (only a handful of students separating them and Sebastian's neck arched back as he laughed at whatever his friend was saying) things started to look a little different.

Which is why, the minute they made eye contact, Blaine did the mature thing and ran in the opposite direction. He spent the rest of the day being eternally grateful that he and Sebastian had practically opposing schedule.

Much to Dom's confusion, he insisted on looping around behind Alcott after chem. It had nothing to do with the fact that Sebastian was getting out of Russian at the same time, it had just been a really long time since he had checked out the hawk's nest down by the tennis courts.

Come 6, all the circuitous routes in the world wouldn't have been able to help him because he and Sebastian actually needed to be in the same room for Warbler rehearsal and short of skipping there really wasn't a way to avoid that. And skipping really wasn't an would probably actually kick him out of the group for that because Sectionals was less than a month away.

So he made his way to Wexner with the rest of the guys and listened to Trent ramble on about the need to maximize rehearsal time for the next three weeks. He spoke, at length, about how shenanigans wouldn't be tolerated because it was important to use every last second of time for practice. Jeff mumbled something about the irony of long-winded speeches and Blaine only just kept himself from laughing out loud. Then they fumbled their way through the dances because, apparently, no one had bothered to practice over break. Blaine had every intention of doing so but then his mother had insisted that they needed pie from her favorite bakery which just so happened to be located outside of Indianapolis.

By the end of practice it was hard to say who was more annoyed—Trent or Sebastian. Both were glowering and not even bothering to hide their disgust with how hopeless they all were and Blaine was silently thankful that Sebastian wasn't still captain. Trent seemed to have given it up as a bad job and was willing to dismiss them; their ears ringing with his disapproval. Sebastian, on the other hand, looked like he wanted to lock them all in the room until they were all crying, dead, or could perfectly execute the routine.

They all left one by one, even Tristan and Ben were hardly talking to each other. Blaine lingered behind, wanting to take advantage of the space to try and get down a particularly tricky combination, earning him a tired smile from Nick as he left the room. Eventually he gave up, knowing he wouldn't be able to figure it out on his own. If Sebastian wasn't ready to kill him after his moronic behavior today hopefully he'd be willing to help.

Because Blaine did realize how stupid he'd been. There had always been that something about Sebastian fucking Smythe that reduced him to an idiotic pre-teen. He thought he had mostly gotten over it; he didn't blush whenever Sebastian checked out his ass and he didn't turn into a stuttering mess when he hit on him. Of course this whole development caused a backslide but Blaine wasn't going to let that continue.

Shouldering his bag he walked determinedly to his room. He was going to drop his stuff off and change out of his uniform then head over to Thomas and force himself to talk to Sebastian. Because Kurt might have been right; he did have a tendency to run, to avoid difficult situations. (Not that Kurt needed to have said that. And he certainly could have found a better way to phrase it.) But not anymore. He was done with not dealing with his problems because that only ever caused more problems than it fixed.

He shouldn't have been surprised when he pushed open his door and saw Sebastian sprawled across his bed. Really, he should have been expecting it. His string of curse words clearly indicated that he wasn't.

"Hello to you too, killer. How was your Thanksgiving?" drawled Sebastian.

Blaine shifted uncomfortably under his critical glare. "About as bad as expected. You?" He swallowed nervously, feeling very much like he had just walked into a trap.

"Shit. Vince gave me food poisoning and I ended up in the ICU. I will pay you to find a way to make him stop making fucking puppy dog eyes at me. Kind of like the ones you're making right now," he snapped.

Blaine tried to rearrange his features, but now that he was so close to Sebastian he could see clearly how pale and tired he looked. Not that that was specifically a new look for him; his fellow Warbler worked way too hard. But it was different when the exhaustion was self-induced and was the result of spending his holiday in the hospital.

At least it explained the pitiful look on Vincent's face throughout practice. And why he had been awkwardly flitting around him while they were dancing. "Are you okay? Do you need anything? I think I have some Gatorade or something. It's important to stay hydrated."

"Got it covered. Thanks," he said, gesturing to the bottle next to him on the bed.

Blaine resisted the urge to check and make sure it wasn't spiked with vodka or something. And the urge to pull Sebastian to him and just hold him because who didn't want cuddles when they were sick? (Sebastian. That's who.) But he was halfway to the bed before he realized it and had to abruptly change direction so he ended up throwing himself onto his desk chair instead. And that felt wrong too, like he was intentionally creating space between them. So he stood up again and ended up hovering halfway between the bed and the desk.

"I thought I told you not to make this weird."It was partially amused and partially weary, telling Blaine his antics were considering entertaining for now but wouldn't be for much longer. Typical Smythe tolerance, really. Everything was fun and games until it wasn't.

"What? Weird?" Blaine scoffed. "Whose making things weird?"

The amusement was rapidly fading from Sebastian's face.

Blaine sighed and slumped his shoulders in defeat. "We had sex."

"That would explain the extra load of laundry I did last Friday."

Somehow that was worse than whatever crude thing Blaine had imagine Sebastian would say. Indicative of the entire situation even, because it was such a nonchalant and meaningless response. "Well to some of us that kind of thing is sort of a big deal."

"You approached me," Sebastian reminded him like he might have forgotten. Like it wasn't part of the whole problem. It hadn't been Sebastian coming on to him and him just giving in. He was the instigator. "Don't make yourself to the victim here. You were perfectly fine using me last Thursday. And if you don't want to keep doing that, fine. But stop being such an asshole about it."

It only lasted a second, but the confident smirk that defined Sebastian slipped away to a look of resignation. It reminded Blaine of that day in the Lima Bean before regionals last year; how open and raw Sebastian had been even if just for a moment. Somehow this was worse because it was like he thought losing Blaine was something that was going to happen sooner or later no matter what. And something about that look that was just so Sebastian. Who else would think they were entitled to everything but that they deserved nothing?

Maybe their falling apart (again) was inevitable. After all, there was no way they could work. But Blaine would be damned if that happened today because of something dumb he had done.

And since talking wasn't really working for them, Blaine did the only thing he could think of. He laid down on top of Sebastian, covering the taller boy's body with his own and pressed their mouths together in hot, hungry kisses because that was something they could both understand.

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**Anyone else getting alarmed by how long this is becoming? No? Just me? Okay then. **

**Thank you, all my followers, reviewers, readers etc etc. Thank you to everyone who patiently (or not so patiently) waited for me to settle in to my new life. I know I said two weeks and that quickly turned into nearly a month. While the delay was mostly due to my move I must, guiltily, admit I had one or two other plot bunnies begging for attention. So maybe keep your eyes out for those too?  
And a special thank you to gotta b writin for not carrying out on your threat and semi-guilting me into getting this posted. **

**I 100% prefer reading reviews to my law textbook. Just throwing that out there. :-D **


	23. Chapter 21

**I'm trusting you guys to let me know when I start writing like a total toff and it sounds like this is about to become a legal brief. (But like this is really a thing I'm concerned about. So please, please let me know if it happens.)  
Also I didn't really have time for my normal proper-proofread. I'll probably be rather embarrassed about this in future but for now I'm too sleepy to careeee.  
And I'm hoping that the fact that I'm making these a little longer makes up for the fact that I'm updating less frequently. :-)**

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It could not be said that Blaine and Sebastian tried overly hard to keep their relationship a secret. It wasn't that they were skipping up the hallway holding hands and proclaiming their undying love for each other (because it very much wasn't that type of relationship) but it wasn't their fault that unsuspecting people kept walking into the numerous empty spaces Dalton offered that they were doing their best to utilize.

(Originally, Blaine had been very much against this utilization. After all, they both had their own rooms that were perfectly serviceable. But Sebastian, as it turned out, could be very persuasive if he put his mind to it. Or, more accurately, his tongue. And his fingers.)

For the most part they didn't go beyond making out. With only ten minutes between classes there wasn't really time for much else. Occasionally Sebastian managed to convince Blaine to make an exception.

The first time they were walked in on they were in a seldom used classroom and Blaine's pants were around his ankles and Sebastian was on his knees. Blaine had nearly had a panic attack while Sebastian casually waved his hand to dismiss the trio of boys.

Blaine then spent the rest of the day looking over his shoulder because _that_ just wasn't going to be accepted and the consequences were the exact reason he had protested when Sebastian dragged him into the classroom and tugged his pants down. There was a reason he and Kurt never kissed in McKinley, a reason why he and Tyler were cautious in their affection with each other even though they had never moved beyond platonic friendship.

Except this was Dalton and apparently they had moved beyond acceptance and into the realm of tolerance here. Even when he came face to face with one of the three guys later, all they did was exchange embarrassed glances and kept walking. No different than the straight couple at McKinley he had accidently interrupted when he got turned around during his first week.

It was weirdly liberating. Actually, the entire relationship was. Quite frankly it was so unlike anything he had experienced before. With Jeremiah he had just fumbled his way through (and embarrassed himself horribly in the process). And with Kurt that start of their relationship had been euphoric daze. It had started with a kiss and quickly devolved into hand holding and smiles. Just being in Kurt's presence made him feel like he was floating. It had been about love, or the potential of love existing.

This was so very, very different. It was a delirious, feverish haze of lust. Not only did he want Sebastian, he could have him anytime and, apparently, anywhere. He didn't have to worry about romance (not that he wasn't still of fan of romance. He couldn't, say, go for the rest of his life without it). There was no need to schedule make-out sessions side by side with dates. If Sebastian was looking particularly good one day Blaine didn't need to tell him, to try and come up with ways to subtly flatter him. He just sucked a hickey onto his collarbone and did his best to swallow down any excessive moaning so whoever was passing by wouldn't feel the need to investigate.

Sometimes he found himself missing his friend, though. Which sounded weird, he was sure, because they were spending quite a lot of time together. But he couldn't actually remember the last time they had just talked or hung out.

So when he headed over to Sebastian's room following his last class of the day he made sure to spend an extra couple minutes getting his libido in check so they could make it at least a couple of hours without groping each other. It was a lot to hope for, he knew, but his backpack was full to bursting and he wasn't afraid of using homework as an excuse.

Luckily for him, Sebastian was sitting in the middle of his bed surrounded by a truly monumental stack of college brochures. When Blaine entered the room he merely grunted in his general direction and threw whatever he was looking at in the corner of the room and picked up another. This is one was, apparently, more promising because after a couple of seconds pursuing it got set aside.

Shifting some of the papers from the end of the bed, Blaine dug out his chemistry homework and tried to make himself comfortable at the limited space available at the foot of Sebastian's bed. It was a bit of a difficult task, since he didn't really want to mess up whatever system Sebastian seemed to have organized for himself but eventually he managed and starting trying to work on his reading. Try being the key word because he was finding it nearly impossible to not glance up every couple minutes at the boy sitting across from him.

It should have been more awkward (which actually seemed a fitting description for everything they had ever been. Should have been more _something_ but in the end it was always just them), Blaine kept thinking, since this was the first time they'd been alone in the same room together and not been having sex in ages. But they were tactfully not talking about it and it seemed to be working for them. Maybe they could function like this, keeping their friendship separated from their sex life.

"What are you thinking," Blaine asked after twenty minutes of non-successful studying. Sebastian had managed to make it through the majority of the booklets (none of which seemed to have a common theme—spread all over the country, big universities and small liberal arts schools. Even a couple of technical institutes- and didn't seem like he had found anything life changing within their pages, "for next year? Where do you hope to end up?"

"Not sure I care as long as it's as far from here as possible. Ohio blows," he smirked.

"No solid plans for the rest of your life, then? You seem like the type to have figured everything out when you were 5."

"Hardly," he scoffed before remaining uncharacteristically quiet.

"Seb?" Blaine prompted, shuffling closer. "You can tell me, you know. It can't be any worse than the time I decided to become a candle-stick maker. Nearly burnt the house down and poor Tabitha ended up covered in wax. I still have a scar from where she scratched me." He grinned.

"I think," Sebastian began after another long moment of silence, "that I want to take over the business... from Chloe."

As always it took him a moment to process how Sebastian separated the woman who gave birth to him from the woman he co-founded an organization with. One didn't exist, the other was merely a distasteful business partner. "How can that be something you want? You were miserable growing up. What on earth could possess you to want that lifestyle again?"

"This is why I didn't want to tell you," he sighed.

"Well then explain it to me," Blaine insisted. "Because right now you just sound crazy." Blaine hated when he became all judgmental. It wasn't who he was. He loved people. Cooper once joked that he couldn't go a day without falling in love and he was probably more than half right. But, for all the differentiation he made, Blaine knew how much Sebastian resented his mother. Somehow he felt the betrayal of their failed relationship more keenly than he did any other family member.

"It was kind of always expected of me, so no one would really question if I did it. And Chloe and I already know how to work together, from the foundation. Even if it's mostly through other people yelling at each other." he gave a humorless laugh.

"But it's more than that. It's an interesting job; one I think I'd like doing and I'd probably be good at it. And it wasn't so bad growing up. I love that I've lived so many places; Paris, Sydney, Istanbul, New York, Brussels, Rome. It was my parents that made things unpleasant and they probably would have been just as bad if we lived in one place, maybe even more so because we would have been stuck in the constant. I mean shitty people are always going to be shitty people, no matter where you put them.

"I don't want to follow in her footsteps or become her or anything. I'm just really interested in what she does. Why replicate the same thing when I can just inherit it?"

When he said it like that it made some semblance of sense. It certainly wasn't something Blaine could ever do. He didn't think he'd ever be driven enough to push away the kind of emotions that would surely dredge up every day. Sebastian, on the other hand, had spent his entire life putting his ambitions ahead of his feelings.

"What about you, killer? What are your life plans?" It was clear he wasn't used to talking about himself so much, not in this way and that he wanted to push the attention off himself.

Blaine shrugged. He hadn't even realized until a couple of days ago that he really had no clue what he wanted to do next year. Growing up his father had always talked at him about his potential future in law or politics. A nice, respectable career that would reflect well on the Anderson family, although it was never said in so many words.

More recently he and Kurt had made exhaustive plans about their New York reunion. They'd planned on him applying to NYADA and maybe Tisch too because after the Great Acceptance Debacle they'd agreed it was better safe than sorry. He'd also planned on doing some more searching because his college counsellor was insisting that, typically, Dalton students apply to no fewer than 5 colleges. Even Wes, who had played two varsity sports all four years, lead the Warblers, had a 3.98 GPA, and whose grandfather was on Yale's board of Trustees had applied to four schools.

He hadn't been unhappy at the prospect of either. They weren't his dreams, but he could be just as happy fulfilling someone else's as his own. Both had fallen by the wayside though. After he came out to his parents he and his father struggled enough with the present that they stopped talking about the future.

Going to New York seemed pointless too. Off to live a life planned by someone else. Besides, before meeting Kurt, he had never really thought of making performing his career. He appreciated it, had been thrilled during every production he'd ever been part of, and if one day his name somehow just happened to end up on Broadway he would be deliriously ecstatic, which is why he never argued with Cooper, or Kurt, or any of the other people who had been pushing him in that direction. Performing would make him happy, of that he had no doubt.

All he had ever really wanted in life, though, was to help other people. So in the back of his mind he always had a different dream. He had never expressed it to anyone because for some reason he'd couldn't explain it seemed foolish. But ever since he'd received his SAT II scores the idea had been growing in his mind, pushing its way to the front.

"You can tell me, you know," Sebastian teased. "It can't be any worse than that time 30 seconds ago when you thought I wanted to be a soulless bastard."

"If you truly wanted to follow in her footsteps you'd be shooting for heartless bitch, actually," he joked back and then froze immediately, unsure if he was still allowed to say things like that.

But then Sebastian was laughing and tilting his head in acknowledgment. "Well played, Anderson. Well played." And Blaine was letting out the breath he only half realized he was holding.

"So?" Sebastian prompted, sitting up straighter and actually looking interested.

"Well I've always really liked kids," he admitted. "And I'm pretty good at science…" By now he was blushing furiously and Sebastian thought it was maybe a little adorable that this was the closest he could ever get to boasting. "I've always had this fantasy of becoming a pediatrician. And then," he continued in a rush, like he wanted to get it all out before he was told it was stupid, " my first year out of school I'd join Doctors Without Borders or something like that and travel the world for a couple years just, you know, helping the kids who really need it."

The look Sebastian was giving him should have petrified him. It certainly sent his heart to racing. About a year ago he probably would have doubted Sebastian was even capable of such a look, too soft around the edges and eyes shining a little too much.

Before he had time to process what this might mean, his catalogues were being pushed out of his hand and his lap was full of Sebastian. And he knew his plan was to make it a couple hours without this, but this? This was different. It wasn't hot and rushed and needy and it wasn't turning into heated, frenetic sex. It wasn't feelings, per se, but it hinted at them. Whispered that they could be there, one day. That this could be more than just fucking.

But he wouldn't think about that now. He'd wait until he was back in his own room, after he'd e-mailed his advisor to say he wanted to go pre-med.

xxx

They were halfway through Warbler practice when Trent called them to attention. (Retrospectively, Blaine should have known something was off by the way Ben was actively not sitting at the council Table and the look on Nick's face—like he was being forced to take a particularly nasty medicine for his own health.)

"As we all know," Trent had said, chest puffed out with the importance of his announcement, "sectionals are rapidly approaching. We have decided that the two songs we've been rehearsing with Senior Warbler Anderson on lead will, in fact, be used."

Everyone broke into a round of applause and the nearest Warblers clapped Blaine on the back. It was more a formality than anything else, there was never really any doubt in anyone's mind that wouldn't be the case. The big question was what the third song was going to be and, as the days went by, without any word of it, Blaine had been getting more and more anxious on Sebastian's behalf; perfecting a solo in less than two weeks was hard, especially when that solo was going to be used in a competition.

"Yes, yes. Well done, Blaine." Trent raised his hand to quiet the room. "The council spoke over the weekend and we have agreed on _Payphone_ for the third song." There was a mixed level of enthusiasm for this proposal, but on the whole it was well received. "And on that note," Trent continued pitching his voice about the general tumult, " we-"

Ben coughed suspiciously loudly and Nick shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"That is to say, I, as Captain-"

"Dictator," Ben coughed and even Sebastian looked scandalized (albeit amused) by that.

"As Captain," Trent repeated firmly, "I would like to open the floor to nominations for lead in this song."

The tone of the room changed abruptly, from excited whispers to vaguely masked confusion. Surely this was just a formal measure? Because as far as they all had been concerned lead was decided back in September. Eventually Vincent inched his hand into the air.

"Junior Warbler Russo, do you have a nomination?"

"Yes?" Briefly he looked around for a reassurance that wasn't forthcoming. "I would like to nominate Senior Member Smythe?"

"Anyone second the motion?" Trent asked, although he sounded displeased.

"Seconded," Blaine raised his hand as well and watched as Ben made a note in his official Warbler notebook. Out of the corner of his eye he caught Sebastian shaking his head with a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips which caused Blaine to break out into a grin.

"Just a minute, just a minute," Trent said, because the guys had started to stand up now that the formality had passed. "Is there no one else who would like to audition?"

The grin on Blaine's face twisted down into a confused grimace. Even Jeff looked surprised, shooting an uncharacteristically begrudging look at Nick who was back to wearing a look of stony resolve. Clearly this was Trent's idea, although for whatever reason, Nick felt obligated to go along with it. And it explained Ben's place on the floor and not at the table.

"Why would we do that?" Frey was the first to find his voice and vocalize what they were all thinking. "It seemed very clear at the start of the semester that Blai- I mean Senior Members Anderson and Smythe would be competition leads." There was a general muttering of agreement.

"Given the progress of the year, thus far, and vast talent of the group it seemed only fair that we open the floor to all interested parties." It was bullshit and everyone knew it. The move was undoubtedly political He wasn't sure if it was only a statement or if Trent thought he would have enough support to actually have an effect. Either way, Blaine was livid.

"If Sebastian has to audition than I should too."

"Don't be ridiculous," Trent scoffed although he seemed to be aware of the dangerous ground on which he was treading. "You haven't auditioned for anything in years."

Before Kurt that never would have really bothered him. He did just get solos, while Jeff and Nick and even Wes had to audition time after time, often only to have the lead go to Blaine anyways. It had worked for them, proven by their outstanding finish his freshman year and heavily relied on after. Since Kurt's Blaine and the Pips comment it was something he was sensitive to. Coming back this year, the only reason he hadn't protested to his declared lead status was because Sebastian had it too.

"So no one else would like to audition then?" Nick asked in an attempt to circumvent the oncoming storm that was heralded by Blaine's scowl. To the credit of the Warblers not a single one of them raised them moved, even Lucas who looked like he might have briefly been toying with the idea. "Hereby the Council grants the solo to Senior Warbler Smythe, unless there are any objections?" He paused for just long enough to draw a breath before hurrying on. "In that case I move to adjourn for the evening. Seconded?" Ten hands shot in the air. "Excellent. I will see you gentlemen tomorrow."

Sebastian was out of the room almost before Nick was done talking. Blaine faltered for a minute, wanting to go after him but filled with too much indignant anger. "You three," he growled at the council, "stay."

Trent was becoming more and more outraged, having first been had his captaincy commandeered by Nick and now being ordered by Blaine. But Ben, who had clearly been against the whole thing from the start wasn't protesting so he didn't either.

"What the hell happened to you?" He asked as soon as the room had emptied. "I feel like I don't know you guys anymore. _That_," he gestured angrily, "wasn't us. That wasn't the Warblers. I used to be proud to wear this blazer and to sing with you. Now I'm just embarrassed. And you," he spun on Nick, "I thought you had learned your lesson last year about blindly following the lead of a bullying captain."

"Senior Warbler Smythe _was _that bullying captain, in case you've forgotten."

"Of course I haven't, Trent. Just like I haven't forgotten who was standing behind him. But if you had such a problem with his tactics you should have done something about it at the beginning of this year. Or, even better, last year."

"Blaine," Nick started placatingly, "Sebastian was practically our dictator last year. What were we supposed to do? It's not like he was ever willing to listen to us."

Without thought or hesitation he replied, "Quit. If it was that bad- If it was so bad that you still need to be punishing him for it almost a year later and you absolutely couldn't do anything to change it you should have quit." It was what he would've done, rather than stand by and watch his friends get harassed and hurt.

"He has a point," Ben admitted, ashamed, which seemed to put Trent on edge even more than he had been before.

"Look," Trent got to his feet and leaned closer towards him" just because Sebastian is fucking you blind-"

"Is that what this is about?"he asked, laughing harshly. "What Seb and I are doing is none of your business."

"It is when we can't go anywhere in the school without walking in on you getting blown by him." Nick had developed the very unfortunate habit of appearing at the end of their more explicit moments.

"I appreciate that you guys are so concerned. And I promise that I'll try and convince him to keep it to our rooms. But I'm not going to let you keep doing this to him." His words hung between them, somewhere between and threat and a warning and even he wasn't sure which they were.

"So you two…?" Ben paused as Blaine's glare was turned on him. "Right. None of our business. I'll be sure to talk to him tomorrow about… everything that happened today. And just keep it out of the Warbler room. We all sit on that couch."

Blaine smiled embarrassedly. They really had been acting like a couple of immature teenagers and as great as it was it really was terribly inconsiderate of everyone else at the school.

Now that his anger had mostly left him he thought it was safe to go and find Sebastian. He couldn't even begin to predict what the other boy might be feeling or how he would be reacting to what had happened. No matter how much closer he and Blaine had gotten, he still didn't like displaying his emotions. Only occasionally did he let them slip through and he almost always immediately shut down after he realized what he had done.

When he got back to Sebastian's room he put his hand on the doorknob and twisted, like always, not even bothering to knock. But the knob didn't turn.

"Seb?" He called, rapping on the door. "It's just me." He was sure Sebastian was in there, he could see the light filtering under the door and there was definitely music playing and he could've sworn he had heard singing, which had stopped when he tried to open the door. "I know you're in there."

Still no response. He tried the door again, even though he knew it would still be locked.

"Sebastian? I'm not leaving until you open this door. Or at least talk to me."

And he didn't, despite all the weird looks he was given as various boys walked by. Not until lights out, when he hurried back to Connors and waited until he was sure all the dorm-parents were asleep.

"That doesn't count," he whispered through the wood as he resumed his post. He had no idea whether or not Sebastian was still awake, but it was stupidly important that he know Blaine was back if he was. "But now I'm really not leaving. You'll have to come out sometime." He settled against the door and pulled the blanket he had brought with him closer around himself.

Every twenty minutes or so he made a point of saying something else or tapping out a rhythm in confirmation that, yes, he was still there. He even tried opening the door a couple of times, just in case it magically unlocked itself.

"Whaz 'appenin?" He cried out, around 4.30 in the morning when he was very abruptly deprived of his back support. Sleepily, he squinted up into the darkness above him, barely having to make out Sebastian's face before he was being hauled upward and manhandled across the room "Seb?"

"You're an idiot," he was informed as he was being tucked into bed. "I have several very important phone calls to make. I promise to keep it down if you promise to not be so stupid in the future."

"Never," he wanted to sound defiant but the bed was actually really comfortable, especially compared to the floor and, unless he was very much mistaken (which was really possible at this point) , there was a hand lightly scratching at his scalp. "Just don't yell angrily in German. 'S scary to wake up to."

"Got it. No waking you up with Hitler impersonations."

"You're much more attractive than him. Like a lot." Vaguely he was aware that what he was saying was bordering on the ridiculous; a fact which was only confirmed by Sebastian laughing loudly and genuinely.

"Go to sleep, killer."

"'k." He yawned and snuggled further under the downy duvet and within minutes he was sound asleep.

* * *

**So I can now officially confirm that reviews are 12009.87% better than my law textbook. So I'm eternally grateful for everyone who sent them along last chapter. So grateful that I adopted a policy of writing 150 words for every review/new follower I got. (Which is largely why you all are getting an update about 5 days earlier than expected.)  
So thank you wonderful lovelies. :-) **


	24. Chapter 22

**If I were to name chapters this one would either be **_**In Which Blaine Anderson Has a Date **_**or **_**wherein I cram 2 months of events into 4,000 words and actually cut a ton of shit for the first time ever.**_

* * *

The rest of the semester passed in a frantic blur. Sugar kept texting him about some hot new (probably) gay guy that just joined New Directions who Blaine really needed to meet. He wasn't even lying when he said he was too busy to breathe let alone go on a date. There was a fencing tournament two days after Christmas that he's desperately trying to get in top shape for and Warbler practice doubled as they tried to get ready for both Sectionals and the holiday benefit while cramming for exams.

He can barely even remember performing his two solos, although he does remember the wide grin he caught on Sebastian's face as the last notes of _Anna Sun_ faded away and Blaine bowed low to the audience. With a vague amount of certainty he can say that he was standing between Nick and Dom when they were announced as winners and he can definitely still feel Sebastian's hand, warm on his hip as he slipped his arm around his waist and squeezed.

It's likely absolutely none of them even remembered the songs their competitors sang. Half of them hadn't been listening as the furtively read from their textbooks by the dim light of the auditorium and ran through last minute dance moves backstage.

Victory celebrations were postponed without complaint. And at the end of the day it doesn't really seem like a win at all. Except now, sitting in the corner of the room as they rehearse Christmas carols, they have a trophy to try not to trip over.

The benefit almost started off as a disaster, when Jeff stepped forward and started singing _Carol of the Bells_ instead of _Silver Bells_, but luckily Dom's booming voice covered up the mistake long enough for Nick to step forward as the rest scrambled to accommodate the impromptu holiday mash-up . During Trents's solo they hastily scrawled out a set list to avoid another similar mistake.

Blaine was thankful he only has the one solo (and he could probably sing _Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas _in his sleep). After that he just stood in the back and beamed proudly as the rest of the Warblers took the lead.

Sebastian looked bored and irritated as he sways in the background and between songs Blaine's pretty sure that he's reciting Russian poetry under his breath. He hadn't even auditioned for a solo, claiming an inherent dislike of all things Christmas while Blaine bit his tongue to avoid pointing out the irony of the fact that the benefit had been his idea last year.

They took their finals bows to a standing ovation and the headmaster proudly announced that they raised almost $7,000. It's a bit lower than they'd been hoping for, but beat their projected expectation.

By the time exams are over the entire Dalton population is running on too little sleep and too much caffeine. One freshman had a mental breakdown and everyone else was torn between feeling bad for him and laughing at his expense. (All freshman courses were a full year, so these exams weren't actually that important. At most they were worth 20% of their final grade.)

xxx

The dorms were to be closing in 40 minutes and he was still laying in Sebastian's bed; the other boy curled up around him and sleeping soundly. He wouldn't really call what they did cuddling. But they were two grown teenagers sharing a twin bed which made a certain entwining of their limbs as they slept really unavoidable. If, on the colder nights, Blaine sometimes burrowed a little bit closer towards the natural warmth of the body next to him it was really only a survival tactic combined with a mild fear of falling off the bed.

It had gotten to the point where he couldn't really keep putting off waking him up. But Sebastian had had a crazy sleeping schedule for the last couple weeks because, on top of all his Dalton obligations, he's been trying to organize a New Year's gala in, if Blaine's eavesdropping has been correct, Milan. Mostly that had involved him starting his day at some time between 3.30 and 4.30 in the morning and ending it around midnight.

Normally he was supportive of Sebastian's ability to survive on four hours of sleep and his hourly cups of coffee, but he had been planning on driving all the way to Springfield when he was clearly well on his way to crashing.

Gently he nudged his shoulder and murmured, "Seb?" against his temple. "C'mon, Seb. Gotta wake up now." As Sebastian's eyes fluttered open he pulled back as much as he could, making sure to take a healthy share of the blankets with him.

By no means did Sebastian look like he had just taken a two hour nap. He was still uncharacteristically pale and the corner of his left eye wouldn't stop twitching. "Time is it?" he slurred, pushing his hands through his hair in a futile effort to get it to flatten down.

"Almost 4.30."

"Fuck. You packed?" He pressed a sleepy kiss to Blaine shoulder, the closest area within kissing distance. His voice is sleep rough and deep and it takes all of Blaine's willpower to not flip him over and ravish him.

"Pretty much. I packed last night. Didn't want a repeat of Thanksgiving. Your mostly done, right?"

"M-hmm. Did it before my exam."

"How'd it go?"

"The exam? Fine. Finished thirty minutes early. She was muttering about cheating when I left."

"I still don't understand why she hates you."

"Typical Québécois. Jealous of the fact that I'm more French than she'll ever be. How'd chem go?"

Slowly they were working their way out of bed. Sebastian even had a foot on the ground at this point which, frankly, was exceeding Blaine's expectations.

"It went okay. Totally forgot an equation, but I got the extra credit questions right." Knowing that Sebastian would feel obligated to get up if he was, he pushed himself out of the bed even though Sebastian's arm was wrapped around his waist and he really, really didn't want to move. "I'm going to get you a coffee and you're going to get the rest of your stuff together, okay?"

When he came back he was pleased to see that Sebastian's bags were neatly lined up by the door, even if he was slumped over his desk.

"I don't think I've ever been disinclined to drive six hours in my life," he commented, blindly reaching up for the proffered cup.

"It should be closer to seven," Blaine chastised. Then after a minute, "Come home with me," he surprised himself by saying. He had no idea what the weather was going to be like between here and there, but the threat of snow had been hanging heavy in the air for days. Worrying was part of his nature, not obsessively so. But, really, it was only natural to want his friends to be safe.

"Why, Blaine Anderson. Are you propositioning me?" The flirtatious look probably would have been more effective if it hadn't coincided with the grimace of trying to restrain a yawn.

Teasingly Blaine smiled and bent low, whispering into Sebastian's ear, "Well, my parents won't be home…" Which he rather thought should have earned him a little more than a grunt in return. "Definitely coming home with me," he decided because if Sebastian was too tired to be interested in sex he was too tired to spend the evening on the road. "Give me your phone.

With a vague wave of his hand he said, "It's on the bed."

Blaine grabbed up the phone and entered his address into the GPS. "You can follow me, if you want. I live about 20 minutes from the Lima Bean, so you should be fine until we get there. But just in case we get separated." He handed the phone back over. "Now drink up your coffee and then we can get going."

Due to some fateful stroke of luck they managed to just miss traffic and, even better, the roads were empty enough that he didn't feel too guilty about blasting music to keep himself awake. (He had been in the middle of belting out a rather upbeat song when Sebastian passed him, laughing so hysterically he could barely drive in a straight line. After that Blaine had dialed it back a bit. For the safety of those around him, of course, and not due to his own embarrassment.)

By the time Blaine had pulled his car into the garage he wanted nothing more than to curl up in his bed and sleep forever. Typically he liked to cook himself dinner on his first night home (assuming his parents weren't home which was normally a safe assumption). As good as Dalton's food was it was still mass produced and couldn't compare to a home-cooked meal. Tonight that seemed like too big of an effort, it was likely he'd fall asleep at the stove and end up setting the entire house on fire. Hopefully Sebastian wouldn't mind if they just ordered something.

"My room is upstairs. Second door on the left, if you want to go throw your bag up there," he gestured at the over-night bag resting at Sebastian's feet. "Or if you want to change out of your uniform. I know how much you hate wearing it."

"Just because I don't want to spend every waking moment in it doesn't mean I hate it," he scoffed. "It okay if I shower? I didn't have time this morning."

"Yeah. Bathroom's right next to my room. And there should be extra towels and things in the cupboard next to the sink. Yell if you need anything and when you're done we can decide on dinner. I'm thinking pizza." He knew he should probably be showing Sebastian where everything was but given that they basically had free reign over each other's dorm rooms, waiting on him here felt weird.

While he was waiting for Sebastian to finish showering he brought in his bags from the car and threw a load of laundry into the wash. After everything downstairs was sorted he lugged his satchel up to his room and began stacking his books on his desk. (Theoretically the teachers weren't supposed to be giving them too much homework over the break but he seemed to have acquired a suspicious amount of 'recommended reading'.)

The bed was looking particularly comfortable; bigger than the twin he was used to with his lovely comforter and fluffy pillows. Knowing his mother the sheets had just been changed earlier that day and the cleaning lady always made sure to spritz them with lavender and just laying down for a little couldn't hurt. Sebastian was sure to be starving and there was no way he wouldn't harass Blaine into getting up.

Some undetermined amount of time later he felt his pants being tugged off and, shortly after, the bed dip. "You said something about pizza?" A voice asked low in his ear.

He was pretty sure he managed at least a half nod. "Yeah. I'll get up in a minute."

"Ok," murmured against his skin as a body pressed down heavily in the empty space to his left.

Hours later he stirs awake. According to his watch it was 3.47 in the morning. The cuffs of his shirts were cutting into his wrists, he couldn't feel his right leg, and he really needed to pee. Tugging himself from Sebastian's grasp, he shifted out of bed and padded his way to the bathroom, making sure to strip off his shirt on the way.

When he returned, Sebastian had managed to sprawl himself across the bed, taking up as much space as humanly possible (rather a lot given the length of his limbs). Blaine couldn't help but smile fondly, the habit much more endearing here than back at school. Carefully he slid back into bed, curling up in the little space available to him and pulling a blanket up over them.

When he awoke again it was almost 11 and he was fully under the covers. He wasn't at all surprised to find a note on the bedside that read:

_Thanks for letting me crash here.  
Try not to have too much Ohioan fun over break.  
See you in January. ;-)_

Well, the winky face surprises him a little. He didn't know anyone who would actually take the time to write one out. But he supposes it's a habit left over from years of sexting and leaves it at that.

xxx

He spent all Sunday at the barn, because his parents were due home that night and he wasn't quite sure he was ready for another Anderson holiday. Coop managed to work his way out of coming home, so it was just to be the three of them and an overwhelming amount of tension. Normally he prefers fencing or boxing as a form of stress relief, but they're both closed and it's been weeks since he's seen Toby anyways.

Aching and tired (but mostly de-stressed) he collapsed on his bed after a long bath, snatching up his phone and scrolling through the contacts.

**From: Blaine Anderson  
My ass hurts. I don't think I'll be able to sit for a week. **

**From: Sebastian  
And why might that be?**

**From: Blaine Anderson  
Toby**

**From: Sebastian  
I'm listening. A story you might want to share with the class, killer? **

**From: Blaine Anderson  
Just needed some stress relief. So I spent 5+ hours riding him today.**

**From: Sebastian  
I'm sorry to have missed that. **

**From: Blaine Anderson  
How's packing going? Did you finally settle on a suit?**

The next time he heard from Sebastian he was bedridden with a fever of 103. It was after Christmas (he's guessed, based on the brand new encyclopedia set that were sitting on his bookshelf. And he vaguely recollected stumbling down the stairs on Christmas morning to awkwardly sit with his mother and father in the living room as they all pretended like there was nowhere else they'd rather be.) but before New Years because nothing short of a case of Ebola would keep Wes from dragging him out for that.

**From: Sebastian  
I forgot how much I hate Milan. I've been here for two days and I'm already ready to leave. How's Ohio treating you?**

**From: Blaine Anderson  
your life is full of misery and woe  
boring as ever. except I seem to have caught the flu **

**From: Sebastian  
Blame Jeff. I don't know who he was kidding. Just a cold my ass. **

**From: Blaine Anderson  
yeah probably. **

**From: Blaine Anderson  
how can you be bored in Milan? youre in Italy! surely there has to be something exciting to do. **

**From: Sebastian  
Cristian. But two nights in a row takes away from the excitement. **

Blaine hesitated, not really sure how to respond. It wasn't like they were dating or anything. If they had been hooking up with some level of exclusivity it was more because Sebastian's planner was a terrifying Tetris puzzle of color coded blocks symbolizing study sessions, meetings, and rehearsal times that had left no space for the vermillion that signaled a night out than anything else. And he honestly couldn't have expected him to not have sex for the entire month they had off, could he?

The girls, he was sure, would have twisted it into something terrible and tragic. Like he was too afraid to admit his feelings so he resorted back to his old and promiscuous ways. But Blaine was pretty sure it was just Sebastian being Sebastian.

**From: Blaine Anderson  
i said something. not someone and surely he isn't your only option? **

They texted for another half hour, discussing the various things Sebastian could get up to in order to keep him from dying of boredom. When he left it was pretty clear he had settled on heading out to a club in hopes of picking someone up. **What's the point in staying in an expensive suite if I can't show it off to randoms? **He had asked and Blaine hadn't been able to come up with a counterargument.

His conversation with Sebastian had absolutely nothing to do with the conversation he had with Sugar the next day. Nothing whatsoever.

**From: Blaineybear  
What did you say your friends name was again? The new guy in ND? **

**From: Sugar xx  
you mean Eli? BLAINEYBOOO are you going to ask him ouuuuut? **

**From: Blaineybear  
You can give him my number if you want. And he's still interested. **

**From: Sugar xx  
DONE AND DONER. i think you'll really like him. he's such a big goofball. **

Later that night he received a message from an unknown number. It started off really awkward, because getting to know something via texts really wasn't the best possible medium. They eventually found common ground in rehashing the college football season; both cursing Michigan for making NCAA history and laughing at 'Bamas misfortune. From there it spiraled into McKinley gossip and movie talk. Before they knew it, its 3 in the morning and they had plans to meet up on Friday to go see _The Hobbit_ and try the new Mexican place that just opened across from the mall.

The movie was fantastic and the Mexican place sucked. They ended up only eating some nachos because, frankly, they were a little afraid of getting food poisoning. Luckily they weren't too hungry because shared a large popcorn during the film.

Normally this would be the point where Blaine's hands were just aching to wrap around a fork and eat something of substance, but Eli is telling a story about his younger siblings and he just couldn't stop laughing.

They aren't soul mates or anything. And Eli certainly is attractive, but things seem to be floating closer to the friend side. He can see them meeting up to watch the game and he is first on the list of people to call up when the new Die Hard movie came out. He's not really sure if it will lead to anything more but he's not adverse to finding out.

At the end of the evening Blaine they awkwardly walked out of the restuarnt and lingered outside (because Eli is a junior and doesn't have his license yet so he still has to rely on his mother to drive him places.) After a few minutes she pulls into the parking lot and they shuffle around a bit, finally settling on a lingering hug. It feels wrong, somehow. Incomplete. So Blaine ducked in a pressed a quick kiss to Eli's cheek, just above the corner of his lip as Mrs. Conroy obviously studied her phone, giving them a last moment of privacy.

"I had a good time," Eli blushingly admitted.

"Me too." He drummed his fingers against his leg, hoping he wasn't presuming too much when he followed up with, "Maybe, after New Years, we can do something else? And maybe eat a real meal?"

"Cool. I'll call you."

xxx

At 6pm on the dot Blaine pulled into the Houle's driveway for their annual New Year's Eve party. He was just unbuckling his seat belt when his phone buzzed with an incoming message.

**To: Blaine Anderson  
thisgala sucksd Almost rather beE in ohio**

He sent his sympathies but had given up days ago on trying to convince Sebastian that life couldn't be that bad if he was in Italy. Clearly he was above such mundane things as the glamour of Europe. But the gala must be really boring if he's _that_ drunk and Ohio was still looking like a better option. Boring as Milan apparently was it had to have more to offer than Ohio ever would.

His New Years was rung in with Richard licking his chin while Wes and David tried to hoist him up onto their shoulders. The four of them ended in a painful heap on the ground and it was only after Admiral and Roxie came bounding over to them and attached them with overenthusiastic (and slobbery) kisses that they clawed their way to standing and started an impromptu dance party.

They passed out in a heap in their specially created blanket fort after they triumphantly finished off the last bottle of champagne and if they never woke up again it might be too soon, because there is no way the resulting hangover wasn't going to be be miserable and epic.

At 2.30 in the afternoon on the 1st he's awoken by Richard angrily shoving his phone directly into his face muttering about how silent was invented for a reason and Christ, why hadn't Blaine set that the night before?

He had 3 missed calls and about 20 missed messages, most of which he assumed are generic and were sent en masse. The latest one was sent from Sebastian and if it weren't for a combination of his massive headache and the content he would be getting on a place to fly to Europe to kill his fellow Warbler.

**From: Sebastian  
What do you think the best instrument for cutting off your own hand is? **

**From: Blaine Anderson  
Cleaver, if the person is strong enough. Or some sort of power saw, I would guess. **

**From: Blaine Anderson  
…why? **

**From: Sebastian  
I need to cut my hand off. I don't know where I could get a power saw though. Meat cleaver it is then. **

**From: Blaine Anderson  
Won't that make it hard to play lacrosse? **

**From: Sebastian  
Unfortunately. I have no choice though. I'm sure the team will understand. **

**From: Sebastian  
Actually, they probably won't. But they can just go fuck themselves. **

**From: Blaine Anderson  
What the hell? Why do you need to cut your hand off?**

From: Sebastian  
It's touched female genitalia.

The pillow chucked at Blaine's head due to his uncontrollable giggling was totally worth it.

**From: Blaine Anderson  
You had sex with a girl? How drunk were you? **

**From: Sebastian  
It was unintentional. **

**From: Blaine Anderson  
How do you unintentionally have sex with someone?**

**From: Sebastian  
You'd be surprised. But the sex wasn't unintentional. **

**From: Sebastian  
The person I was with was trans. Which I didn't realize until it came time for the reach around. **

Wes sat up in alarm at Blaine's startled choking noise that was a clash of revulsion, shock, and laughter.

**From: Blaine Anderson  
What did you do?**

**From: Sebastian  
Finished her (him?) off. Obviously. I'm not a total asshole. **

**From: Blaine Anderson  
Could've fooled me. **

He wasn't really that surprised when he didn't get a text back.

xxx

For their third date, Blaine and Eli went into Columbus to see _Chicago._ Eli wasn't quiet as into musical theatre as Blaine, but he did have a healthy appreciation for it and had been dying to see _Chicago_ ever since the movie had come out. For a local production it was really good, although it certainly couldn't compare to when Blaine had seen it in New York. Eli was fascinated by it and he babbled happily on their way from the theatre to the car, swinging their clasped hands in excitement.

On the drive home they flipped through Blaine's iPhone in search of the most ridiculous song on it. They settled on switching back and forth between _Doctor Jones _and _All Star_; competing against each other to see who could sing through it with the straightest face. (Blaine lost miserably.)

When they pulled into the Conroy's driveway, Blaine parked the car and walked Eli to his door and they kissed on the front porch. It wasn't fireworks, but he thought it could be a sparkler. The whole thing was absurdly cliché, but that didn't stop him from grinning stupidly as he got into his car and drove away.

After another eek it was clear that the relationship wasn't going anywhere, and both of them seemed to know it. Since public schools had a shorter vacation period, Eli was already back at McKinley and neither of them felt obligated to talk on a daily basis. They might not speak for days and then Blaine would receive a facebook message saying **come over tonight? ;) **When Blaine couldn't fall asleep on Saturday (too much coffee, too close to bedtime) he called Eli and they debated zombie movies for an hour.

The sex was… well not completely there. They made out a lot, and there was some unavoidable and basic groping but whenever Eli's hands fumbled with his zipper he made sure to casually relocate them as he smiled tightly against whatever bit of skin his lips were pressed against.

The romance- if it could it be called that- had well and truly fizzled out by the time Blaine was packing his bags to head back to Dalton, leaving him with the sudden understanding of why no one wrote catchy pop tunes about winter flings.

* * *

**The plan had been to post this yesterday, but then I realized that in the Sync Your Heart World today is the day that Klaine broke up. Woohoo. So I postponed posting to celebrate that. (Also I possibly celebrated Halloween a little too hard and might've pretty much slept until about 11pm. Oops.)**

**Originally, I had wanted Blaine to date Ryder. But based on that like 3 second clip I've seen of him I decided against that very quickly. So Eli got to make an appearance and I made him part of New Directions.  
Also, Sebastian's sex incident happened to a friend of mine. So it is actually possible to do. Promise. **

**Not really sure what my posting schedule is going to look like for the next few weeks. I have two really big papers due which means I either won't have time to write anything or I'll end up writing about 6 chapters as I procrastinate on my work. **

**As always, thank you to all you beautiful lovelies who reviewed and to all of you fantastic people who follow/read this. You guys are all awesome. 3**


	25. Chapter 23

**Literally don't have a good reason this took so long to get posted. I got distracted writing some other things and real life decided to be a bitch? But still. Excuse me while I run off and hide in shame and contrition.**

* * *

Before he had even begun unpacking, Nick had barged in and forcibly dragged him down the hall to Dominic's room so they could all catch up on Warbler news. They had a huge stockpile of snack food (both for throwing at each other and for eating) and several large thermoses filled with Jeff's mom's famous peppermint hot chocolate.

Most of them hadn't seen each other since they left Dalton is December and on the whole they weren't the greatest at keeping up regular correspondences. (Trent made it a point to message everyone at least once every two weeks, but you would be lucky if Jeff remembered your birthday, even with facebook notifications. In fact, the only reason Richard, David, Wes, and Blaine, had managed to stay in such close contact was because Wes had the compulsive need to immediately reply to any and all messages sent to him and had the expectation that everyone else would do the same.)

For the most part the catch up was more a chance to see each other altogether outside of practice and to shamelessly gossip. Although it wasn't an official meeting there was an unspoken expectation that everyone of them who was on campus should be there, even though many of them drifted in and out throughout the evening.

At present, the only two who were totally missing were Sebastian and Vincent who, along with the rest of the Dalton track team, were stuck in a Florida airport because their plane kept getting delayed due to mechanical issues. They, or Vince at least, were being kept abreast of the gossip via a frantic flurry of texts.

Tristan's older sister had announced that she was pregnant and it caused a bit of a scandal because she wasn't married. But she had been seeing the father for seven years so it hadn't been a total disaster. The seniors all moaned about college applications and refused to say where they had applied for fear of jinxing it while waiting to hear back. Dom's mother had caught him and his friends smoking pot in the basement and he had been grounded and had his entire stash confiscated. Trent's teenybopper sister had been caught with condoms in her school bag and she was banned from going over to her best friend's, which lead to her trying to sneak out one night. She ended up falling out of the tree by her bedroom window and breaking her wrist.

"Kids these day," Nick snorted contemptuously. "Absolutely ridiculous." No one bothered to point out that his best friend was Jeff who had a childish penchant for both randomly climbing out windows and jumping out of trees (especially when you were unsuspectingly walking beneath said tree).

They were on their third round of hot chocolate when everyone pivoted around, in eerie unison, to focus their attention on Blaine.

"My father got me an encyclopedia set for Christmas. Cassel's, 1910. The binding isn't the best, but my mother says she knows someone who can fix them; an antiques book dealer in Toledo that she went to school with." It had been yet another stellar example of the way his family worked. It wasn't that he didn't appreciate the books because they certainly were interesting, even a little fun to look through and he could say with confidence that none of his friends had a set. But they hadn't exactly been at the top of his Christmas list. Or actually anywhere on it.

Fortunately, he had spent enough time around the Warblers to know to duck behind Nick in order to avoid the barrage of things thrown at him in a demonstration of their lack of appreciation for his response. He also wasn't surprised when he finally sat up only to have one last sock bounce off his nose, even knowing to direct his glare at Jeff who was innocently looking out the window.

"Nothing happened. Frey's dying fish story was more exciting."

"You can't just get a boyfriend and not tell us anything about him! That is not the Warbler way." As far as effective pouts went, Trent's wasn't that great but when the rest of the circle echoed him, Blaine finally gave in.

"…And then we agreed to just be friends," he concluded. It might not have been more boring than Frey's story, but it certainly wasn't much more interesting. Even Trent, who had always been a bit too invested in his love life, looked disappointed.

"So what does that mean about you and-"

"More hot chocolate anyone? There should be enough left for one last round!" Jeff was suddenly in the middle of the circle, dangerously brandishing the remaining thermos. The only person who jumped up faster than Blaine was Nick.

Blaine had no idea who he was about to be asked about, but whether it was Sebastian or Kurt he really didn't want to talk about it with anyone at all, and certainly not anyone in the room.

"So you saw David and Wes over the break?" Nick asked as soon as they all settled back down. "What's up with them?"

He tried to remember the best of the stories he heard and relayed them back to the group, but nothing was really sticking out in his mind. Wes was dramatically torn between two girls; Blaine's friend Marguerite and some Yale sorority girl whose name he wouldn't tell them, like it was some big secret and would mean something to them. David had made it his life goal to graduate college with a 4.0 and had spent more of his semester in the library than outside of it. There had been some roommate drama for him in the beginning, but nothing that they hadn't already dealt with. Richard had a couple of interesting stories, but most of the guys didn't really know him so he decided to save them for just the seniors.

Suddenly he missed them a lot. More than he had since he came back to Dalton and he wondered at why he hadn't so keenly noticed their absence before. Wes would've been on his right, David next to him. And Richard would be somewhere, floating around the circle and making sure he spent equally time joking with everyone. And, if he let his imagination wander enough, Sebastian would be on his left, looking too suggestive for such a public place. (It was an impossible situation, he realized. Spanning too many years and none of them were even there right now.) But still, in an ideal world…

Ben started talking and Blaine tried his hardest to listen, but no one was very surprised when he excused himself from the gathering less than half an hour later, too easily accepting of his proclamation that he wanted to be well rested for classes tomorrow. They all bid him goodnight and he felt their concerned gazes on his back as he left the room.

When he got back to his room he looked at his still packed bags and decided he couldn't be bothered. He hadn't really been lying to the guys, he was tired. So he slipped into bed and stared at the ceiling until he drifted off.

xxx

"Go back to sleep," a voice whispered into his ear while a soothing hand ran over his curls as he struggled to decide whether to be alarmed or not. His body was being gently nudged to the inside of the bed. "It's just after three. We just got in and I'm letting Vince crash in my room because his asshole of a father wouldn't pick up the phone and none of us were in a fit state to drive him home."

"Seb?" He started to pull himself awake, although the head petting and additional body heat was making it really difficult. A distant part of him remembered he was annoyed with the guy who had just invaded his bed following weeks of an inexplicable radio silence. But he was more than willing to deal with that later if it meant the scratching wouldn't stop.

"Who else would it be, killer?" He thought it sounded like the overly cautious question of someone who didn't really want to know the answer, but maybe that was just his dreamy state talking.

"Hell if I know," he assured with a sleepy giggle.

"Sleep," the voice soothed and he listened.

xxx

"You need to get up," Sebastian grumbled at him, poking his side half-heartedly. "It's ten of eight. Must've slept through your alarms."

Blaine scrambled from bed, hastily apologizing as his knee collided with something and Sebastian let out a grunt of pain. He sprinted to the bathroom, did what was probably the worst tooth-brushing job in the history of the world, and put the least acceptable amount of gel in his hair before running back to his room and frantically rifling through his still packed bag in search of socks while trying to button up his shirt.

"Don't tell me you have a free period this morning," he groaned at the lump in his bed. He and Sebastian would be having a lot of problems this semester if he didn't have class on Monday mornings.

"I wish," responded the lump. "Team's excused from morning classes. Only perk to yesterday's debacle."

Glad that he had memorized his schedule yesterday, Blaine blindly grabbed the necessary books and binders and shoved them into his satchel.

Without a thought he went back to the bed and tugged the blankets down and pressed a brief kiss to Sebastian's lips, smiling when he hummed in response and tried to deepen it. Gently, Blaine swatted at his shoulder and was out the door before he even thought what about what had happened.

It wasn't until he was just outside his classroom that his brain sparked awake enough to realize what he had done.

The _domesticity _of the situation wasn't really the weird part—although it kind of was. After all, he, unofficially, had a drawer in Sebastian's room and kept an extra toothbrush there. But he doesn't think he's ever been more confused about their relationship than he is now. That text on New Year's was the last he had heard from Sebastian and suddenly he was stumbling into his bed, implying that he was only there because his room was being used.

Not only that, but Blaine had dated someone since they were last together. He felt like that should change something, even though the relationship hadn't really been that meaningful or extraordinary. He's pretty positive that, if he and Eli don't stay friends, in 30 years time he won't even be able to remember his last name. But it had changed something about him.

Clearly, he was on his way to getting over his last relationship and hadn't that been the entire point of his thing with Sebastian?

By the time he made it back to his room at lunch Sebastian had gone. He considered going over to Thomas to try and find him, but that seemed unnecessarily needy. At the very least he would see him at Warbler practice later that day.

Besides, Sebastian tended to spend his lunch time at the gym so it would most likely end up being a wasted trip that left him unfairly irritated.

However, Sebastian wasn't at Warbler practice and as Blaine was informed, by a very irritated Trent, it had something to do with lacrosse obligations. They then all receive a lecture on how vital EACH and EVERY rehearsal is between then and Regionals is because they only have two months and there is every chance they'll be up against some very tough competitors. (They way Trent significantly didn't look at Blaine made it more than obvious that he was talking about New Directions.)

After that it rapidly begins to feel a bit like a lost cause; somehow Blaine and Sebastian's schedules didn't seem to sync up this semester. They had no shared free periods and Blaine's pretty sure that indoor track practices last way longer than the cross country ones did. Excepting Thursdays when Sebastian has lacrosse practice and Tuesdays when Blaine fences he has no idea what they're doing at night, but it doesn't seem to involve spending time with each other.

Following that first night Sebastian went back to sleeping in his own room and Blaine wasn't sure whether or not he was invited to follow so he didn't.

Not having to adhere to Sebastian's absurd sleeping schedule and getting to sleep until 7.30 every morning was, theoretically, great. As was not having to contort too many limbs into a too small narrow bed but somehow he hated it.

The extra evenings spent with the rest of the Warblers was, however, a fantastic benefit. After study hall they all hung out either in the Commons or, if the group was smaller, in Ben and Tristan's room. Often he found himself torn between wishing that he had done this more last semester and missing the quieter evenings he had grown accustomed to.

The thing is, he and Sebastian had spent a lot of time rebuilding their relationship and he would be damned if that were all going to be thrown away because they were too insecure or whatever their problem was. If there was a small part of his hormone-addled teenaged brain that was becoming increasingly dissatisfied with his right hand, he was willing to concede that it was a problem, although hardly a contributing factor.

Not that he was expecting sex from Sebastian. There wasn't any sort of obligation there or anything. And If he wanted to go back to being just friends and lose the benefits aspect that would be more than fine with Blaine. A little shocking, maybe, but fine. Being friends with Sebastian was benefit enough. And he honestly couldn't believe he'd just thought that. Obvously he had no idea what he was doing anymore.

Vincent might have also helped make his decision when he sullenly confided, 'Bastian has been a moody bitch since training. He almost ruined SeaWorld for me, Blaine. SEAWORLD. You know how much I like sharks. I would have punched him if coach wasn't so insistent it was a bad idea and would get me thrown off the team.'

Blaine wasn't naïve enough to think he was the cause of his fellow soloists moods (maybe, a small perverse part of him hoped he was a little influential of them though.) but he was possibly foolish enough to think that he could help make things better.

"And to what do I owe such formalities?" was how he was greeted when he finally convinced himself to knock on Sebastian's door.

"Sorry, too much time spent at home," he lied smoothly, not wanting Sebastian to know exactly how unsure he was. "Next time I'll be sure to just come barging in."

"Be sure you do." Sebastian stepped away from the door to let him in, sauntering back to his desk. Which was a mess. Notebooks and discarded textbooks were strewn everywhere and various colored highlighters were scattered around. It was completely chaotic. And not the kind of organized chaos Blaine believed in.

Normally no one was more OCD than Sebastian when it came to a neat and orderly work space. Whatever was going on with him was worse than Blaine had anticipated.

"Rough week?"

"Let's call it senioritis."

Wisely, Blaine didn't comment on the fact that Smythe's were allergic to putting off work. Possibly literally. Blaine had once convinced Sebastian to spend an hour watching crappy reality television instead of working on a history essay and he had ended up with what looked suspiciously like a rash.

Instead, he settled for asking how his break had been.

"Split between Springfield, Milan, and Orlando? I've certainly had better."

"I still don't know what you have against Italy. Or Mickey Mouse. Who hates Mickey Mouse?"

"It's not Italy I mind, it's Milan. And Mickey Mouse is an overgrown rodent that's actually a guy in a ridiculous costume who spends his time getting molested by children. Or molesting adults. I'm pretty sure Pluto grabbed my ass when they forced me to take a group picture."

"How was the gala? You seemed disenchanted with it, if your text was anything to go by."

"I was disenchanted with it ten minutes after we started planning it." He sighed heavily. "The silent auction raised a lot, we gained several backers, and received the biggest donation in the history of the foundation. Chloe's delighted and certainly seemed to be enjoying herself. Rem wasn't particular satisfied, but then she never is."

"Your sister was there?

"So I was informed."

He hated Sebastian's family. As dysfunctional as his own was, Cooper would go out of his way to meet up with him if they were in the same city, much less the same room.

"Speaking of breaks… Rumor has it yours was very exciting." The tightness still hadn't disappeared from around Sebastian's mouth, if anything it only seemed to have gotten worse and Blaine could feel him getting more and more distant.

"Not really. Too much time spent at home, too little time spent at the barn. I honestly thought Toby was going to kick me when I told him I was headed back to Dalton. I don't know what he was to complain about. When I'm gone he's the most spoiled horse there. The stable hands spoil him rotten."

The look of surprised confusion and… something else on Sebastian's face was unmistakable, even if Blaine didn't understand it.

"I always forget that you have a horse." It's a confession and what sounds like an apology and he still doesn't know what it means, so he just lets it hang heavy between them. For all that he hoped to fix things, he only seemed to be making them worse. "And Eli?"

For some reason that fact that Sebastian knows his name causes something in Blaine's stomach to twist. "Eli's a nice guy. But in the end there wasn't much between us."

"Is that a reference to his—"

"What? No, Sebastian. No, it's absolutely not. Not that that is any of your business." It's reassuring to see that smirk back in place, even if it disappears into something more serious after a minute.

"Did it help?"

A question like that should be really offensive. Making it seem like there was nothing more to the relationship than the purely selfish result of Blaine getting over his ex, or like that was the reason he entered into it in the first place.

He shrugged.

"Well, I'm glad you were able to find someone. Even if it was just temporary." Not that he really sounded glad about it, or terribly sincere. But Sebastian rarely sounded sincere when he was trying to comfort; at best he sounded questioning and at worst cocndescending.

They've finally reached the crossroads in their conversation, maybe even in their relationship. It is, after all, the reason that Blaine came in the first place, to move beyond it. But now that they're there he doesn't want to be. Doesn't know what to ask or say. Sebastian takes away all his confidence and leaves him a blushing idiot who can't tell right from left.

"Come here." Sebastian says at last, holding out his arms to Blaine who automatically went to them, falling into place in the open space between his long legs. "Balls still in your court, killer. Tell me if you don't want this." Blaine shivered as Sebastian's arms slipped around his waist and his hands went into his back pockets. "Tell me you don't want this and I'll stop."

The fact that he couldn't control the moan that escaped him should have been more embarrassing than it was. "Okay," he breathed and allowed himself to be pulled down onto Sebastian's lap. On their own accord his hips rocked forward, encouraged by Sebastian's fingers digging even harder into his ass. "Fuck," he moaned.

Smirking, Sebastian mouthed his way up Blaine's neck. "That can be round two."

* * *

**Thank you to all you wonderful lovelies who review, reading them absolutely makes my day whether they're lengthy novels or just a single word. And thanks to everyone who recently started following/favoriting. You're all awesome and those of you who read the entire thing in one sitting are absolute champs.**

**Not quite sure what posting will look like for the next few weeks. I have friends coming to stay with me for way too long and finals and packing to head back home for the holidays. But I will swear on my Harry Potter books that I'll post at least one more chapter before I leave the country. **


	26. Interlude in the Key of D

**I've been having a lot of Seblaine feels this week. So you all get a new chapter. :-)  
And for those of you wondering, I've made this an interlude because it doesn't really have the same flow as the rest of the story, I don't think. The parts are very distinct and also the last bit kind of flops to being more from Sebastian's pov. And to put just put that in a story where the rest is Blaine-centric made me cringe more than a little bit.  
The latter reason is also why the Warbler's might seem a little on the hostile side. **

* * *

With considerable amounts of pleading and cajoling (and a promise of a few owed blow jobs) Blaine had managed to coax Sebastian into showing his face around the Commons after study hall. It wasn't really the interaction he dreamed of, they sat sequestered away in their own little corner, but it was a step.

He had hoped it would ease whatever it was that was bothering him. A tight ball that rested heavily in the pit of his stomach. Stress, probably. AP Chem was finally getting difficult, there was a huge presentation coming up in neuro that he was nowhere near prepared for, he was waiting to hear back from colleges, and Trent was turning out to be an even greater slave driver than Sebastian and Wes combined.

And, much against his better judgement and will, he was starting to miss Kurt. A lot.

The full-bodied anger had started to recede in December, when Sebastian had forced him to write up a list of ten things he actually liked about his ex and then stuck it on his wall so he was forced to look at it every day. It wasn't that he had completely forgiven him by now or that he wasn't still hurt by what had happened but he had months separating him from the event and was finally starting to mourn what he lost.

And he just really missed being someone's _someone._ He and Eli had never been together long enough for that, and he and Sebastian had no claims over each other, no matter how many times they had made each other come. He didn't need to be in a relationship, exactly, he just liked knowing there was someone out there that he was important to.

A gentle nudge against his foot pulled him from his reverie.

"Doing okay there, killer?" Sebastian spoke quietly. The room was mostly empty that night, but he still didn't want to attract unwanted attention, which Blaine appreciated. Tristan and Frey were probably the least nosy of all the Warblers, but there was really only so much time you could spend around Jeff before you found yourself attuned to all the latest gossip.

"I'm great." He had been wearing his fake smile more and more frequently lately so it wasn't difficult to pull on. "Just thinking about all the homework I need to do." Normally that would be enough for most people. Senior year at Dalton Academy was hard. Of course, Sebastian Smythe was not most people.

"You do this thing, whenever you're upset." Carelessly Sebastian gestured at the table top where his right hand was twisting itself around his left wrist. "Kind of a dead giveaway."

Blaine looked down in surprise. It was a subconscious movement and no one had ever commented on it before. Probably no one had ever noticed it. He certainly never had. "Oh. I didn't realize." His hand twisted again, accompanied by a flash of phantom pain and he couldn't help but grip it tighter, subconsciously checking to make sure the bone was aligned. "I broke it. Or, rather, it was broken. Freshman year."

"I hadn't... Shit, Blaine. I'm sorry." Sebastian tugged his hand across the table and began rubbing at his forearm. It's a surprisingly gentle gesture that didn't even have the intention of leading anywhere. (Normally such an action would result into them falling onto the nearest surface and undressing each other.) But there's no ulterior motive there. Just comfort and a look that is equally familiar and unfamiliar.

Familiar because its one he's seen before, unfamiliar because he'd never seen it in association with Sebastian.

"You like me." It shouldn't have been a shocking epiphany, but somehow it was. "Like you _like me,_ like me." If he was doing _this _with anyone else he would have assumed that there was some level of emotion behind it. But somehow Sebastian just seemed so removed from the petty world of school boy crushes. Blaine knew he had feelings, he wasn't just an emotionless bastard who only wanted sex, no matter how much he liked to pretend he was. And in his most private thoughts he even imagined what Sebastian would be like in love (ideally with Blaine, one day down the line). But Sebastian Smythe _liking _someone- liking Blaine- had never crossed his mind.

Sebastian shifted a little and busied himself with reading over his notes. "That is why we've been having somewhat-regular sex since November," he casually replied. It was a tactic Blaine was becoming increasingly familiar with; nonchalant answers about things that mattered, turning emotion into fact.

"I just hadn't realized..."

The papers were set aside as Sebastian fixed him with a pointed stare. "You wear too much gel in your hair and dress like an 80 year old man. You don't understand a word of French and you've stolen my solos. When I met you, you were desperately committed to the most annoying guy on the planet. And you've never lived outside of Ohio. Granted I do posses a border-line psychotic competitive streak, but I sure as hell wouldn't have stuck around this long for a one off in a backroom."

"I do not dress like an 80 year old man," he replied indignantly, because he knew Sebastian wouldn't reply to any other part, that he was already uncomfortable with where the conversation had gone and would close off if it went further.

"Your pyjama sets matches your dressing gowns. You own pyjama sets and dressing gowns. And," he continued, knowing that Blaine was going to try and interrupt, "they are not bathrobes. They are definitely dressing gowns. I don't know why we're continuing to have this conversation."

It wasn't his fault that Dalton got so cold at night. He certainly hadn't been the one to design the hallways to be so drafty during the winter. And it wasn't like he could be faulted for not wanting to freeze to death on his way to and from the bathroom. If the robes happened to match his pyjamas it was just because they were all neutral colors and not because he bought them as a matching set or anything weird like that.

Somehow though, even though half of his personality was just criticized, Blaine couldn't help but smiling broadly as he returned his attention to his project.

xxx

It was with a maniacal enthusiasm that Trent had taken to leading Warbler rehearsal. He had them running scales at the start of every practice to help improve their range and had instituted a weekly dance workshop. He had also hung up a countdown to Regionals which was meant to motivate them, but there was something about seeing 67 DAYS LEFT that didn't really inspire the proper fear, even with the constant reminder that they'd be losing 17 days to the 'frivolities of Spring Break.'

After three days of minimal fervor from the rest of the group he relocated their practices to the AV center. Somehow he had gotten his hands on recordings of all of their potential competition from the past three years and forced them to watch all of the footage, starting at the earliest date and working their way up.

Sebastian had made them sit through similar the previous year so he and Trent were the only two who paid any sort of attention during the first two days. Sebastian even brought his notebook from last year to compare notes and furiously jot down new ones. Whenever Blaine tried to tactfully remind him that he was no longer captain he just disdainfully shook his head and found something new to write down, muttering about how they weren't going to lose because of the incompetency of others.

When they get to the videos from December Trent actually went around the room and confiscated whatever it was they had been planning on using to distract themselves. Blaine lost his phone and the steadily growing paper chain he had been working on with paper he had been stealing from Sebastian's notebook.

The performances weren't particularly surprising, Vocal Adrenaline had improved a bit and Aural Intensity hadn't done quite as well as expected, but still blew their competition out of the water. There's a few other groups that have promise but don't really feel like that much of a threat although he sees the look in Ben's eyes as he made a mental note to keep a look out for them next year.

Then there was the New Directions.

Blaine wasn't surprised by their performance, although everyone else seemed to be. He knew better than to trust Sugar's glowing recollection and Eli hadn't experienced anything else, but Santana's lack of bragging after was really all the confirmation he needed in regards to their performance. If they had done well she wouldn't have been able to stop taunting him with it. But when he casually asked about it she had mumbled that her seat hadn't really been that good but they were great and Britt, obviously had killed it.

Britt had killed it, although her new dance partner certainly was no Mike Chang (Blaine was pretty sure his name was Ryder, but he had a difficult time keeping track of all the new kids.) and the group number (Call Me Maybe. He could practically feel Trent's eye roll) that backed them up demonstrated a little too clearly that a lot of them weren't yet used to singing in a group.

On the whole it hadn't been bad, exactly. There was just nothing about it that suggested they were Nationals winners. Someone had the idea to try and keep the Troubletones tradition alive, but without Mercedes and Santana it didn't have the same impact. Two new girls shared lead for that number. One of them had a great voice but no confidence behind it and the other has more than enough confidence but her voice was only so-so. Instead of balancing each other out it just served to highlight the other's weakness.

Tina had, once again, been skipped over for a solo and instead it went to another new guy who could only be Puck's long lost baby brother—Sugar's words, not his. It's a song by The Fray and, actually, it was really good, but not really appropriate for the competition. It felt reminiscent of the Warbler's Candles mistake, too slow and personal. Meant to draw in but really just alienating.

They won but it had more to do with their competition than their performance. They were against the Haverbrook School for the Deaf again, which was moving to watch but not really considered serious competition by the judges, and a new group from Kettering who had been doing really well until their soloist threw up on stage.

Trent quickly shut the video off and blustered on about how they might not look that impressive, but a lot could happen in a few months. Clearly they had talent and all it would take was a little bit of tweaking and they could really _have something _and how, if they had learned anything from the past it was not to underestimate McKinley because they had the uncanny ability to end up on top.

Blaine was trying his hardest not to feel guilty. Another group he abandoned. His mind was running rampant with ideas for little things they could have done that would have made everyone remember that they were champions. Not that he would have been the leader if he remained, Artie well and truly deserved that position, but he would have been willing to listen to Blaine's suggestions and maybe they could have managed a win to be proud of, no matter who their competition was.

"Stop it," Sebastian's voice growled in his ear, leg pressing against his. "You came back for a reason. Once a Warbler, always a Warbler, remember?" And then, under his breath low enough for Blaine to pretend not to hear him, "Besides, not even you could have saved them."

He's right, of course. And even if he had been there it was unlikely that Mr. Schue would have listened to him. Rachel Berry was really the only person who was consistently able to make him change his mind and Blaine had never been a fan of pushing his ideas on other people. And if he told himself that enough he might actually believe it.

Far from making the Warblers even more apathetic about practicing, it was what served to make them work hard. A general whispered agreement seemed to be that if they lost to _this _group they might as well hang up their blazers and never perform anywhere better than a nursing home. No one complains when rehearsal starts early or runs a little later and Blaine actually starts to become more than a little concerned with what's going to happen when that countdown gets closer and closer to zero.

But what Blaine really hated was the fact that it wasn't about winning Regionals, it was about beating New Directions and not in a friendly way either. He's come to accept that maybe the Warblers he rejoined aren't the ones he left. There's something a little harder about them, a little more vindictive he doesn't really like it but he understands it.

It had been the same with the New Directions last year, although no one had ever claimed that they were nice. Sometimes he just got really tired of being awkwardly caught in between the two.

xxx

It never ceased to amaze him how very different lunchtime at McKinley and lunchtime at Dalton were. Maybe it was the setting- circular oak tables with real chairs instead of plastic ones with benches and stools- or the fact that they had longer; time to actually eat their meals and catch up with friends. The lack of fear was certainly another benefit. He always felt more than a little afraid to be in public at McKinley, out in the open and wondering where the next insult would come from and what color slushie he would be helping someone wash out of their hair.

He actually enjoyed lunch here, surrounded by the Warblers. It was always a raucous affair. At some point they had developed the alarming habit of dumping salt on the heads of unsuspecting victims, but that was considerably easier to clean up the red food dye. Even those rare occasions when Sebastian forwent the gym and joined them were still better than the average McKinley lunch.

Today was different however. Walking into the dining hall he knew that, at the very least, the meal would be a strained affair. Sebastian had a huge indoor track meet that weekend and as such was cutting back on his midday power hour gym sessions. Blaine, who normal lead the charge in staving off the awkward atmosphere whenever the black sheep of their family joined them, hadn't slept in about two days due to the neuro paper/presentation combination that he had maybe ended up leaving until the last minute. Entering the dining hall he was fully prepared for a lot of pointed silences and the occasional distasteful joke.

He was not, however, prepared for the measured looks he received upon settling into his seat next to Sebastian, leaning on him much more than was necessary because it was either that or face-planting into his chicken pot pie. If Sebastian's free hand happened to be rubbing his back he didn't notice, but the other Warbler's certainly did.

"What's going on between you two?" Jeff finally asked, squinting at the offending hand on Blaine's back. "Because it's starting to seem like it's more than just fucking." All heads turned to Blaine, waiting expectantly for an answer.

After several long minutes where it became clear he wasn't going to reply Sebastian finally broke the silence with a defensive "I don't really see how that's any of your business." He wasn't too surprised by the glares he got in response.

"It wouldn't really be… if it was just sex. But really, Blaine?" Trent said, turning his attention back to the other boy. "Sebastian?" Sebastian was used to hearing his name said with that level of disgust, Blaine, apparently wasn't.

"What's that supposed to mean, exactly?"

"We can understand the appeal of making him your fuck buddy. You just got out of an intense relationship and you're confused, or whatever. And he's clearly more than willing. You're probably not really thinking about the multiple partners and STD aspect of it all. Which you really should, by the way," he added, intensifying his glare. "But is _this_," he made a sweeping motion with his hand and for the sake of Trent's face Sebastian opted to interpret 'this' to mean their relationship and not his person, "really what you want?"

"I think," Nick cut in diplomatically "What Trent is really trying to say is that this seems very different from your prior relationship. If you look at it from the perspective of an outsider-"

"When you first met Kurt you sang Teenage Dream _at_him." Trent could barely restrain himself from grinning at the memory. "Then we unanimously voted on him becoming your boyfriend."

"No you-" Blaine started before stopping himself because yes, that was exactly what happened when they agreed to let Kurt be his duet partner for sectionals.

"And we went to his school and serenaded him with Keane when he transferred back," Trent continued eagerly.

"He, on the other hand," Luke said, jerking his thumb towards Sebastian, "back up sang Uptown Girl, which is such an imperfect metaphor it's hardly worth mentioning. And the closest he ever got to serenading you with anything was with Michael and we all know how that turned out." Because no conversation could be complete without that reminder of that unhappy incident.

"Compared to the low points in the "Klaine", as they call it," Trent piped up, making liberal use of air quotes, "relationship. Which is tied between the Chandler and Rachel debacles. Cringe-worthy, certainly, but no one ended up in the hospital."

"And which is the better story to tell your children? 'I met the perfect boy, sang him the perfect song, and we fell in love forever' or, 'he tried to make me cheat on my wonderful then-boyfriend for years, sent me to the hospital, and then following one of the worst decisions in my life, fucked me until I got sex and love confused and here we are?'"

And as offensive as that was neither Sebastian nor Blaine really had any idea how to respond. They hadn't even talked about whether or not they might ever be monogamous and suddenly they had a hypothetical set of children to worry about.

Nick rolled his eyes before saying, "What they really mean is that we know you're really hurting from this break with Kurt."

"Break-up," Sebastian corrected because it was an important distinction but he was ignored as Nick talked over him.

"And if Kurt's tweets are anything to go by he's just as shattered."

"I can't handle all the depressing lyrics," Trent commented. "It's worse than an Evanescence album."

"So," Nick continued, obviously trying to maintain control of the conversation before it was reduced to the normal Warbler kangaroo court, "we just think maybe if you talked to Kurt you could work through whatever was bothering you. It's unquestionable that he'd forgive you your confusion…"

"You're really willing to give Kurt up for _this_?" Trent finally burst out, his gesticulations making it very evident that the this of which he was referring was not, in fact, their relationship.

The rest of the dining hall grew quiet following his outburst, looking curiously over to the Warbler table. Blaine was apparently trying out his angry goldfish impression, his mouth opening and closing furiously as he struggled to find something to say.

Sebastian would have thought it was adorable if he hadn't been concentrating so hard on not killing someone. And then Blaine was pushing away from the table, so hard that his chair fell over with a clatter, before storming out of the room. If the tight hunch of his shoulders was anything to go by he was trying to hold back tears.

"Listen," Sebastian hissed, his barely maintained calm finally snapping, "We all know I'm a dick and I have no right to dispute any of the outrageously offensive things you just said about me. And it really is none of your business what we," he gestured between himself and the knocked-over chair, "are doing. But if you ever, _ever_ upset my boyfriend like that again I'll make the rock salt incident look like child's play." He glared, standing up and gathering his and Blaine's dishes.

"Your precious Kurt," he spat the name in a way he never could when talking with Blaine and it felt so good, "dumped him. Less than 2 hours after he got to the city. Blaine didn't want anyone to think badly of him so he's been pretending it was his decision. Job well done there," he bit out. "With all this new knowledge, don't you dare ever let me hear you talking to Blaine about _him_ again. Got it?"

Grabbing up the plates he strode over to the dish return and slammed them down so hard that one of the glasses broke.

* * *

**So this time I really don't know how long it'll be until my next update. The chapter is mapped out, but I have some other stories that need writing and a pesky thing called school work AND friends coming to visit me. So it certainly won't be as quick as this one. :-) **

**I can't remember if I properly expressed my gratitude when this story hit 100 reviews, so here's the appropriate (and official) keyboard smash of appreciation. hgaeiurhuwehaiFHNAIUPWFVRHAI VnfhiawrvawFAWIINNgcha. You are all so lovely and wonderful and I really, really can't express what your reviews mean to me.  
And to everyone who submits reviews on guest, I wish I could reply to you like I do to everyone else but THANK YOU. **


	27. Chapter 24

**Author's Note:** **Short chapter is rather short. But hopefully I'll be updating a bit more frequently for the next couple weeks.  
Also I'm on a bit of writing kick at the moment. So if you're following my other stories (Footsteps or if you're waiting for the sequel for Prepare the Cabin) that should be up soon as well. And I have a new long one-shot coming up.**

* * *

As he exited the science building he mentally ran through a list of things he needed to get done for the rest of the day. Santana had recently sent in a slew of cat videos to watch, and Sebastian would be pissed if he withheld them for too long and he really needed to get started on his Italian essay. Trent seemed to think they all had the potential to be brilliant choreographers so he commanded they all come up with something by the end of the week.

Since Dalton's track team had won their last three meets, they had been given the afternoon off and Blaine, Vince, and Sebastian had agreed to meet up in the library after classes were over for a study session. He was halfway to the library when his phone rang.

Given that he was running a couple- alright, fifteen- minutes late he half-expected it to be Sebastian bitching about his time keeping abilities but instead of his name _Rachel Berry (your Maria)_was displayed across the screen.

"Rach?" He hadn't heard from her since their night out back in November and immediately his mind had started racing with all the reasons she would be calling; someone was injured or dying or (and somehow this hurt almost as much as either of those two awful ideas) she had called accidentally.

But the voice that answered him wasn't hers.

"Kurt, actually." A familiar, self deprecating and uncomfortable laugh. "I stole her phone because I thought you'd be more likely to pick up. Are you busy? I'd... well I'd really like to talk."

"Uh, yeah. Sure. Class just ended for the day. Just give me a minute to get back to my room?" He swallowed heavily and readjusted his course, making for Connors instead. "It's pretty windy here, but umm how are you?"

"Good! I got to re-audition for NYADA and I think Rachel might be paying someone off, but I'm taking classes there part time now. And I can start full time next semester. And I'm still interning at Vogue. They think they might have an actual job for me starting in May. Full time over the summer and then part time during the school year."

"That's really great, Kurt." No matter what had happened between them Kurt deserved to go to NYADA and work his dream job at Vogue. Blaine would never be able to begrudge him that. "Really, really great. Although I doubt Rachel is bribing anyone. I'm sure you got in on your own."

"You always did have too much faith in me."

"Never too much. I just know what you're capable of." Blaine had made it back to his room and busied himself with hanging up his jacket and scarf in order to not focus on the silence that hung heavy between them.

"Blaine..." he had almost forgotten the way Kurt said his name; the way it seemed to roll of his tongue, drawn out and always intimate, like it was a treasured secret just between them."I really miss you."

To that he had no reply. Only a few weeks ago he had been desperately missing Kurt too, was close to calling him up even. And he still loved him, of course. Still thought about him daily and wondered what he was up to and if he was thinking about him. Feelings like that didn't just go away, no matter how much he wished they would.

"I know things ended badly between us. And I take full responsibility for that. I should have handled it better. You have to believe me when I say I thought I was doing the right thing at the time. And I've regretted it every single day since. But Rach kept insisting that you needed time, especially after she saw you. And I tried to give that to you because what I did was really, really awful. Even Santana thinks so."

"You talk to Santana?"

"Mm? No. I don't. But you know how New Directions work. Heard it from Mercedes who got it from Puck who had talked to Quinn who heard it from Britt."

"Quinn seems to be doing well," Blaine said, grasping at the conversation change. "Wes is at Yale too and he's kind of seeing one of her sorority sisters."

"I thought he was with your friend? Margaret, from the barn?"

"Marguerite. And yes, he is. Apparently it's complicated."

"Sounds it. But playa's gonna play."

Blaine almost choked. "I can't believe you just said that."

"New York does weird things to a person."

"But you like it there?"

"I really do. I can't imagine living anywhere else. I'm sure you'll love it too."

Blaine didn't really know what to make of the fact that Kurt just assumed that he'd still be going to New York. NYU was the only school that he had applied to in the city and even that had been done somewhat dubiously. But that wasn't really something Kurt needed to know. "Oh. Uhh, yeah. I'm sure I would," he replied before Kurt started to babble about all the wonderful places Blaine should check out when he arrived.

"I've really missed just talking to you, Blaine," Kurt concluded some twenty minutes later. "It's good to hear your voice."

"Yeah." Blaine wasn't sure whether he was agreeing or not. "It has been a while."

"Maybe... I mean if you'd be okay with it? I'm coming home for dad's birthday in a couple of weeks. Could we maybe meet up? For coffee or something? Its weird being home and not seeing you. Or you could come to the party! I know dad and Carol would love to see you. Carol hasn't had anyone to experiment her Asian cuisine on in ages and I think she's getting disheartened."

Blaine didn't know what to say. On the one hand, he really wasn't ready to see Kurt yet. On the other, he would feel bad about saying he didn't want to see Burt and Carol. They had been so great to him the entire time he had known Kurt and he hated that they had disappeared from his life.

Luckily, he was saved the need to answer by Vincent angrily pounding on his door, wondering where the hell he had disappeared to.

"I have to go. I was supposed to be studying with some of the guys. But I'll e-mail you later okay?" He said quickly, hoping to end the conversation before Vince took it upon himself to make sure he hadn't died or something equally melodramatic. Before Kurt could even get another word out he had hung up the phone and was dashing to the door.

"About time. Did you forget you were supposed to meet us?" Vincent shook his head in dismay.

"My brother called, sorry," he lied and instantly wondered why he had done that. "Is Seb still in the library?"

"Nah. He finished his work and went off for a run. I don't think he appreciated the day off as much as the rest of us did."

"He wouldn't," he snorted. "Did you still want my help with bio? You're in chapter 17? I know all the terms get a little bit tricky."

"Yeah, if you wouldn't mind. Didn't mean to interrupt your call. I know you and Cooper don't talk very often."

"No, not a problem. We were just finishing up. If you have your stuff we might as well do it here. The library at this time of day is always too crowded for my tastes."

xxx

They were sprawled across Sebastian's floor atop a pile of pillows and blankets, legs entangled. He was studying for an upcoming history test and Blaine was supposed to be reading a chapter from his neuro textbook. Instead he was staring intently at the crack in the ceiling, humming softly to himself.

"Sorry I missed our library date," he finally said. Sebastian shrugged. Blaine shifted away from him, leaving a good half foot of space between their bodies. "Don't you want to know where I was?"

Without even glancing up, he replied warily, "Only if you want to tell me."

"I was on the phone," Blaine pressed on. "Kurt called."

Sebastian sat up; whatever he had been working on suddenly a hell of a lot less important than it had been 30 seconds before. "Oh?" He said, aiming for casual. "What did he want?"

"He's coming home for his father's birthday soon." Blaine was speaking slowly, weighing every word against the shift in Sebastian's expression. "He wanted to know if we could meet up. For coffee." He wasn't sure how much more to say. On the one hand he always valued absolute honesty. On the other he recognized the closed off look on Sebastian's face. The last time he had seen it Sebastian had been telling him about his move from Brussels to New York. It was on his 5thbirthday. The only person to acknowledge it was the customs officer.

"Well I hope you have fun. I'd advise finding somewhere other than Lima Bean, though. They're getting their beans from somewhere new and it tastes like sewer water," was Sebastian's wooden reply. "There's a good place right outside of Kenton. We've gone there before lacrosse games a couple of times. Their French roast in unparalleled."

"You'd be okay with me going?"

Sebastian went back to focusing on his timeline. "It isn't like we're dating or anything so I don't really see how it concerns me one way or the other, killer."

"I can think of a lot worse things to be doing with my life than dating you."

"Flattering as that is," Sebastian said forcing his concentration to remain on the books in front of him, "I don't really think that while you're talking about getting back together with your oh-so-charming ex is really the ideal time to ask me to be your boyfriend." He didn't need to look up to know how Blaine was looking at him. Head tilted to the side and eyes stupidly wide, like a fucking puppy.

"Jeff said that's what you called me at lunch the other day. After I… left," he settled on the word.

"It was the most effective way to threaten them." He brought a hand up to absently massage his temples.

"I told him we couldn't. Kurt. That I wasn't ready to see him yet," Blaine said, switching tracks yet again. "Besides," he said with a sly grin "I'm kind of seeing someone else. And he's pretty cool. Also about a million times better in bed."

"Still not dating." Sebastian still hadn't looked up but the tension in his shoulders had drastically decreased and his voice lost the hollow echo.

"We could be though," Blaine sang happily. Overall the conversation had gone much better than he imagined it would. No one had ended up screaming obscenities at least and that had to count for something.

"Too much homework. Ask again tomorrow," Sebastian grunted, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

It became a bit of a thing after that. Blaine would casually slip it into (private) conversations or send random texts throughout the day and Sebastian would respond with some ridiculous answer. On Tuesday he was too worn out due to track practice, followed by dance intensive Warbler rehearsal, then lacrosse. Thursday he claimed to have failed his Russian history test and 'the only thing I'll be dating for the next month is my textbook.' The next Sunday he had drank too much Guinness the night before. Some days he was too hot or too cold or hadn't done his laundry in too long (and how could you possibly date someone if you didn't have clean clothes?)

It was equally teasing and Sebastian trying to come to terms with what, exactly, it would mean to be in a relationship.

Suddenly whenever they watched movies or TV shows Sebastian was examining the couples on the screen; brow slightly furrowed as he followed their movements with more attention than he ever had before. Or one of the guys would mention his girlfriend (an increasingly common occurrence as Valentine's Day neared) and he would tilt his head slight in careful consideration of their words.

It finally happened the Sunday after the 14th. They were sitting in Sebastian's room. Blaine was supposed to be studying for an Italian quiz, but instead he was trying to remember the words to some song that his sixth grade Italian teacher taught them. It didn't really have anything to do with what he was supposed to be studying, but the tune had been stuck in his head for hours and he couldn't remember the words for the life of him.

Out of the corner of his eye he can saw Sebastian get continuously more irritated as a hummed the same bar over and over again. He planned on stopping as soon as he completed this verse, but that proved to be more difficult that he intended and he was pretty sure that Sebastian was actually about a minute away from either kicking him out of the room or just kicking him in general.

"Would you stop that, please?" The politeness of the please is negated by the fact that Blaine could practically hear the clench of his teeth as they ground together in irritation.

"Would you be my boyfriend, please?" It was mostly reflexive by then; randomly slipping it into conversations at various points throughout the day. He hadn't given up hope yet, but the game had started to get a bit old. The answer was predictable, 'Not now. I'm too annoyed by your irritating habits, Blaine Anderson,' or some similar variation.

"Fine. If you'll stop with the humming."

"I'm never going to remember the words anyways. I bet Anna would know, she has a superhuman memory. I haven't talked to her in ages. I could probably find her on facebook though," he continued.

"Mmm," agreed Sebastian.

"I haven't talked to anyone from Mercy since I lef-" he whipped his head up, his wide-eyed stare meeting Sebastian's amused smirk. "Did you just say yes?"

"I said 'Fine', actually," Sebastian waved his hand dismissively. "But I suppose that's all semantics."

"Really?" Blaine was torn between wanting to spend the rest of his life grinning like a maniac and being a little annoyed. He hadn't even really meant it that time and it would make the worst story ever.

"Well you asked so politely," Sebastian was grinning widely; the smile almost exclusively reserved for the end of performances, bright and radiant and _happy_. Carelessly, he tossed his notebook aside and pulled Blaine to him and kissing him with uncharacteristic sweetness; an apology for taking so long and for denying Blaine a big romantic gesture.

"You are such an asshole," Blaine murmured against his lips.

If anything Sebastian's smile grew wider. "You're the one dating me."

"Don't know what I was thinking," he said and kissed him again.

* * *

**So in the off chance that the world does end within the next 24 hours I'd like to thank all of you crazy kids for spending any portion of your remaining hours reading this.  
Should the world not end still thank you for reading and reviewing and generally being awesome and supportive. I love every single review that I receive. **

**(Speaking of, AJ, I have no idea if you are still reading this, but if you are I responded to your review over at my tumblr post/37867525157/actual-important-things-that-need-saying.**** I ended up putting it over there because it got a little on the long side to put at the beginning/end of a chapter over here.)**

**Also, to those of you whom I haven't responded to yet I will get on that asap. 3**

**Happy Doomsday (or winter solstice, whichever you prefer) everyone!**


	28. Chapter 25

**What's this? Another update already?! Trust me, I'm about as surprised as you are.**

* * *

It wasn't that he was expecting some great, fantastic honeymoon period or something. Sebastian was far from the overly romantic type and it would be pretty difficult for them to have more sex than they already did. But they were actually boyfriends now and surely that should mean something, somewhere would change. Maybe they'd share secret smiles during Warbler practice or they could eat dinner together, just the two of them and it could be the closest thing you can get to a date while attending boarding school.

But the indoor track season was coming to an end soon and suddenly all the seniors realized that this was their last chance. Sebastian, especially, had this epiphany as he was the only one who wouldn't be running track in the spring and he was refusing to finish the year without shattering at least one record. Most of the rest of the team had caught his maniacal fervor and now they were all putting in unprecedented extra hours; intensive morning runs, lunch times spent in the gym, and staying late after practice.

The closest Blaine was getting to couple-y meals was smuggling food from the dining hall so Sebastian would have something to eat during the day because otherwise he'd be passed out in the gym somewhere from lack of nourishment.

And Trent was still on his tyrannical kick, so no one was smiling much during rehearsal as they argued over songs and struggled through complicated dance routines.

This wasn't to say that they had absolutely no time together. As soon as Trent banged his gavel to adjourn practice they were practically attached at the hip. But whereas they had been spending their nights in the library, Sebastian was now too tired to be further than a couple feet from his bed. So they retreated back to his room and spent the rest of the night curled up in bed together working on their school work.

Sebastian wasn't the only one who was extraordinarily busy. Somehow or another, Blaine's homework level had nearly doubled and, on one less than enjoyable occasion, he was still hunched over his books when Sebastian dragged himself out of bed at 5.30 for his morning run.

Blaine didn't even have the joy of telling everyone about his new relationship status because all of Dalton thought they were dating already, thanks to Sebastian's outburst earlier in the month. (Blaine knew he should have corrected Jeff when he brought it up, but he was too busy trying to explain away his decision to lie to them about what had happened with Kurt that he didn't even think about until an hour later when he was on his way to Chem.) And, as Vince had informed him, changing your facebook status to 'in a relationship' when the person you were with didn't have a facebook just looked pathetic.

So the world continued on like nothing BIG and HUGE and WONDERFUL had happened on the 18th of February and, at the end of the day, Blaine couldn't even be that disappointed by the lack of fanfare surrounding it because four of the five nights since he had fallen asleep, with a smile on his face in the arms of his boyfriend.

By 2pm that Friday the only thing separating him from an awesome weekend (that would hopefully include their first official date) was a meeting with his college counsellor. Why exactly he had to attend it he wasn't sure. While he understood that some of his peers (like Jeff) were taking more of a last minute approach, all of his applications had been submitted since January and now he was just impatiently waiting to hear back from schools.

He actually tried to spend as little time as possible thinking about those applications as the idea of being rejected from all of them and not having a future beyond performing at theme parks and nursing homes haunted him.

But Mr. DeWitt had insisted it was standard protocol; he was to meet with all of his students before the March 1st deadline, regardless of where they were in the application process. Sebastian, who was in a similar boat to Blaine, had his meeting earlier in the week and told him it was mostly pointless chitchat and filling out yet another endless survey about how the program worked for him.

When he arrived outside Mr. DeWitt's office he was still finishing up his last meeting and he gestured for Blaine to take a seat on the bench outside. As he waited he surreptitiously took out his phone to check his e-mail. (Dalton rules stated no phones during school hours in academic buildings. If you were caught with one it could be confiscated for up to a week. Although it hardly stopped students from checking them during the school day it did significantly minimize their usage.)

Most of it was useless junk; stupid mass e-mails sent to the entire school about lost calculators or textbooks, David had replied to their thread, and there was something from Santana. And below that an e-mailed with the subject line **Your Application Status: Please Read.**

As he clicked to open it he could feel his heart pounding in his chest.

xxx

Practically running back from Mr. DeWitt's office, Blaine threw the door to his room open, fully expecting to see Sebastian sprawled out on his bed, preferably shirtless. (As would be an appropriate response to his **my room in 30? **text that he sent right before his meeting started.)

He was only mildly disappointed to find his room empty. If the blazer thrown over the back of his desk chair was any indication, Sebastian had been there recently. Knowing his boyfriend (he still grinned every time he thought that) and his renowned lack of patience, he assumed he just got bored of hanging around waiting for Blaine to get back. Blaine grabbed his laptop to wait for his return.

There was an open cat video open on the screen that he had never seen before- further proof that Sebastian had been there. He watched it through twice, laughing both times. Copying the link, he opened his e-mail intent on forwarding it to Santana who, despite her denial, loved cat videos almost as much as he did only to remember he already had one from her. He scrolled down to it only to find it had already been opened.

He shook his head. They had been over this about a million times, just because he forwarded 95% of the stupid videos San sent him, didn't mean that Sebastian could just open all of her e-mails. There were boundaries and his impatient self could wait the extra 10 minutes for whatever she had sent Blaine.

Still, this one looked promising. It was entitled 'So cute I think I just threw up (or maybe that was the burrito I had for lunch)' and had a video attached and accompanied by the note 'I think the entire glee club has seen this by now. It seems a shame you're the last because you'll appreciate it the most.' Clicking the video he crossed his fingers for otters, if he was really lucky they'd be in bowties.

Instead he was greeted by his ex-boyfriend's face. For the next twenty minutes he stared, horrified, as a clearly intoxicated Kurt bemoaned the failure of their relationship, cried over how much he missed Blaine, and delivered a truly uncomfortable 5 minute ode to certain parts of Blaine's anatomy. He didn't know who the original recipient of this video was (he guessed Mercedes) or why the entire glee club had seen it (he guessed that she had forwarded it to Rachel, who had sent it to Finn and Finn couldn't keep his mouth shut if you paid him)- and oh God, Finn saw.

He was hard pressed to think of a time when he was more embarrassed. Finn was one of the last people in the world he would want to have seen this video. The only way it could have been worse is if Burt had seen it, or Sebastian. But not even Brittany would have thought it was a good idea to send this gem along to Burt and none of the New Directions talked to Sebastian, except for Santana, but that was mostly done through Blaine and youtube videos.

Except, the e-mail had been opened and Sebastian had been gone for a long time. Mr. Harper always let his classes out early on Fridays which meant Sebastian could have been in Blaine's room for 30 minutes, long enough to have watched the entire video. Even if he had just seen part of it… And he probably read Santana's note which, having seen the video, Blaine knew was dripping with sarcasm but Sebastian might not know that. Which means he was probably throwing a hissy fit somewhere right now.

"Fuck," Blaine swore, scrambling for his phone and sending a frantic message to his boyfriend.

His heart sank when he heard an answering chime from near his desk. While it wasn't ideal, Sebastian was known to have anxiety attacks when he was apart from his phone for more than an hour. Even if he was furious with Blaine (which he shouldn't be. It wasn't his fault his friends and his ex were equally crazy) he wouldn't be able to stay away for more than three hours.

Only he wasn't back in three hours, or in six. Around 2.30 in the morning Blaine fell asleep, phone clutched in his hand and jerking awake every time he heard anything from the hallway convinced it would be Sebastian bursting into his room.

By Saturday evening he had relocated to Sebastian's room. If he was really this angry he might just be avoiding Blaine's room, but he needed to sleep somewhere or at least come back for a change of clothes.

Sunday afternoon he paid Luke $50 to hack into Sebastian's e-mail. When that didn't turn up anything useful, he tentatively sent off e-mails to Sebastian's parents and sister from his own e-mail account asking if they knew where Sebastian was because he had basically just disappeared off the face of the earth. Mr. Smythe and Remi never replied and Mrs. Smythe responded by saying she hadn't seen him and had no idea where Blaine had gotten her e-mail from but she would appreciate it if she never contacted him again.

On Monday morning he was seriously contemplating calling the police, but according to Nick, Mr. Fredricks, the AP Calc teacher, didn't seem at all concerned and he was a notorious stickler for attendance. He was the only teacher at Dalton to enforce the one point off from your final grade for every unexcused absence rule. So Sebastian was either dead in a ditch somewhere or had called in pretending to be his father and was thus being so ridiculous about this entire situation that he was actually skipping an entire day of school.

Come lunchtime on Tuesday Blaine had stopped being worried and started being angry. They'd barely been together a week and he had spent most of it MIA, off in a snit over nothing. If this was a sign of things to come then Blaine Anderson was seriously reconsidering this particular life decision.

So when Trent sat down next to him and asked "What the hell did you do to Sebastian?" he might have snapped a bit.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"He disappears for four days, then reappears looking like Broody McStormCloud and wearing his 'I'm mad at Blaine' shirt. Doesn't take a genius to do that math."

"Wait, which shirt is that?" Then, because his brain always took a few minutes to catch up when it was really important. "He's back?"

"You know the one. That awful black and green sweater that looks like it's about five years old." Blaine did know that sweater. He hated it. Not only was it ugly, it was also a souvenir from Sebastian's first drunken club hookup. Some Norwegian douche who had blown him in the bathroom an hour after meeting him. How, exactly, the sweater had changed hands he never bothered to find out. Why Trent seemed to think its infrequent appearance had anything to do with him, Blaine wasn't sure. "But yeah, he's back. Saw him headed to his room on my way here."

Hardly even waiting until Trent finished his sentence, Blaine bolted from the Flatts and over to the dorms. His heart was thudding in his chest and his head was echoing with the litany of scathing insults that had been building up over the past day. He slammed into the door and was yelling before he even made it across the threshold.

"Where the fuck have you been? You can't just disappear like that. Everyone has been worried about you. _Trent_ was worried, for God's sake. You are such an immature asshole." He strode across the room and yanked the duvet off the bed. Sebastian didn't even look at him, just continued staring with suspiciously red-rimmed eyes. Blaine should have felt at least a little bit bad but he had been a basket case for days and he was still really fucking pissed.

"It was just a fucking e-mail. One you shouldn't even have opened because last I checked it was sent to me and not you. I can't control what people send me. And if you're going to snoop through my fucking things then you deserve to be upset by what you find. But running away is not the way to deal with your fucked up insecurities, or whatever it is that your problem was."

Sebastian let out a harsh bark of laughter. "You think that's what this is about? I didn't even watch the damn video. I saw it was from gay-face and realized it was private so I closed out of it," he spat.

"What the hell else was I supposed to think? You just left for four days. No one knew where the hell you were. I even e-mailed your fucking family and they had no clue. You could have been dead for all I knew! Then you finally show back up and you're wearing your 'I hate Blaine,' sweater..."

"For fuck's sake," he snapped, "I haven't done my laundry in like three weeks and I was in a rush. And I don't have an I-hate-Blaine sweater." He sighed in frustration. "Just sit down, will you?" all the fight drained from him. "And stop yelling. I had enough of that this weekend, thanks." Blaine's legs folded under him and he flopped gracelessly onto the bed. "Can we just, you know, lay here? For a minute," he pleaded.

Instantly all of Blaine's anger dissipated and he wrapped himself around the taller boy. It wasn't that he had never seen Sebastian sad before, because he had. But normally it was a shuttered off kind of sadness. This was different though, this sadness shone. They lay together for so long that Blaine nearly fell asleep.

"I didn't mean to worry you. I was in a hurry and didn't bring my laptop and I lost my phone somewhere."

"You left it in my room. Remind me to get it for you later," Blaine said quietly and pressed a gentle kiss to his temple.

Sebastian swallowed. "My grandmother passed away," he said too loudly, like the words had to be torn from his throat. Suddenly Blaine felt like the shittiest human being on the face of the planet.

"Was she sick?" He knew very little about the Smythe family, most of it was snippets that he gathered from passing comments. He did, however, know that Sebastian's grandfather had effectively disowned him after he came out but his wife disregarded his protests and kept in contact with him anyways. She was the only relative that Sebastian willingly spoke about.

"Apparently," he laughed mirthlessly. "She had Alzheimer's, but physically I thought she was fine. Rem texted me Friday, when I was waiting for you. She told me I better not be thinking about going to the wake because I'd only upset people. No one even told me. And she made it sound like it was my fault I didn't know what was going on.

"I shouldn't have gone, but I couldn't not. I got one of her friends to tell me when the services and the b-burial were going to be. I thought there would be enough people there to hide me from my family. And Betty agreed to help. She always liked me. But Marcus spotted me at the cemetery. He's always been such a Daddy's boy so, of course, he told everyone. Grandfather wasn't happy." He couldn't bring himself to recount exactly what had been said to him. It hadn't been anything new but the fact that it was said over his grandmother's casket with his father (who had never agreed with his father on that particular issue) looking on and not saying anything, brought about a new sort of sting. He didn't need to say anything though, it was written in every line of his body.

"Shit, Seb," Blaine breathed, holding him tighter. "Fuck. I'm such a jerk. Fuck. I'm so sorry." He pressed kisses to Sebastian's neck, the side of his face, anywhere he could reach, mumbling sorry between each one. He didn't know what he was apologizing for, exactly; how much of a self-centered jerk he was, Sebastian's shitty family, or the loss of his grandmother. "Fuck, Seb. I'm sorry."

Sebastian shrugged his way out of Blaine's grasp and did his best to curl in on himself but Blaine wouldn't let him, fearing what would happen if he shut himself off completely. He forced Sebastian onto his back and resolutely sprawled on top of him.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered again.

xxx

Blaine didn't understand it. Sebastian was so perfect at always making him feel better. Whether it was having a stock of pie for him or showing up at his fucking apartment in New York City unannounced just because some sixth sense told him Blaine needed him, he had been there for him time and time again. And now Sebastian needed him, really needed him and Blaine had never felt more useless in his entire life.

His boyfriend wasn't just mourning the loss of his grandmother, he had just lost the only family member he had who actually cared about him. (Well, sometimes Blaine got the feeling his sister might, at least a little. But then she went and did something like _that_ and it seemed even more clear that she didn't.)

It was like Sebastian had been set on autopilot. He still went to all his classes, attended all his meetings and gym sessions. He went to bed every night with his completed homework pile sitting neatly on his desk and woke up before the crack of dawn every morning. Just like always.

But he didn't scoff anymore when his Russian homework was too easy or snigger when Luke tripped over his own feet during rehearsal. Blaine almost lost his voice cheering as Sebastian's relay team dominated their race but Sebastian hardly smiled even though they broke the school and state record.

While he normally loved how close Dalton was as a community, he couldn't help but resent it a little as everyone began walking on eggshells around his boyfriend. How, exactly, word had gotten out he wasn't sure but the phrase 'death in the family,' hung heavily in the halls in Sebastian's wake and people were going out of their way to be kind to him.

Even Trent had put his vendetta on hold for the time being; hostile glares being swapped out for pitying glances that Blaine knew Sebastian would hate if he was paying enough attention to see them.

Blaine tried his hardest not to coddle him, even if he kind of really wanted to. He prattled on about the same things he always as they did their homework together. He continued to smuggle food from the Flatts and scold him for spending too much time at the gym and not enough time taking care of himself and lecturing him at length about caloric intake and how that needs to increase, not decrease the more you work out. He acted like Sebastian's automatic, wooden responses were genuine even though it broke his heart to hear them.

The only time he let things be different was in the middle of the night and Sebastian clung to him like he was the last thing holding him to this world. He never cried, but Blaine could feel his desperation to make sense of things even as he slept. He held Sebastian as tightly as he could and muttered all the things he knew Sebastian would never admit he wanted to hear. _I'm here.__ I'm not going anywhere. __ I promise. Anything you need. Just tell me. Anything._

* * *

**Again, thank you for your continued support. SYH is now just over 6 months old and I really couldn't have brought it this far without all of you. Whether you were with me since the beginning or are only just now discovering this little world every notification I get warms my heart and makes me smile.  
Thank you all and happiest of holidays!**


	29. Chapter 26

When he and Sebastian first started to become friends, Blaine remembered occasionally wondering what, exactly, it was he saw in the other boy. Mostly it was after a talk with Kurt or one of the other members of New Directions who had been on the wrong end of his acerbic tongue. But his words were no worse than, say, Santana's and they certainly came less frequently.

Blaine had seen a different side to him, though; had met him while he was wearing the grin that almost only ever appeared while he was performing and was surrounded by people he considered if not friends than at the very least teammates. Then they had sat together over coffee and talked daily online and over the phone. Kurt had been convinced that all they ever did was flirt but (while Sebastian never shied away from a heavy-handed compliment) even he would have struggled to come up with enough innuendo laden comments to fill that much conversation.

He still remembered the moment that 'when I lived in _Paris_' (or Sydney, or Istanbul, or wherever else it was Sebastian had spent his childhood) turned to 'when I lived in Paris.'- a statement of fact laced with longing and not a means to impress.

Back when the Warblers still liked Sebastian. Or, at least, Blaine assumed they did by the way Jeff's name would casually come up in conversation, or David would mention something Sebastian had said after rehearsal with a laugh and a head shake. Only Trent had uncomplimentary things to say about their latest transfer and when Blaine had asked Sebastian about it, the Warbler had snorted, shaken his head and dismissively cited clashing personality and schoolboy politics.

Back when he was still a student at McKinley and foolishly thought he had his entire life planned out.

Somehow between then and now everything had changed. Most of those changes hadn't been good; he'd been temporarily blinded in one eye, abandoned, dumped, and even his transfer back had been tainted by lingering resentments and his rapidly failing relationship.

About a month ago he had started to realize that, even if he hadn't had the easiest time of it, the end result could be good. He was back at Dalton, he finally had a plan for his future that was his own and that he was excited for, he could go weeks (okay, maybe only a week) without even thinking about Kurt, and what he and Sebastian had was good.

The passing of Sebastian's grandmother was a really, really awful setback in their road to things getting better. But Blaine was determined to help him past it, whatever it took. Because Sebastian might've spent an unnecessarily large part of his life being a jerk to the people around him but he deserved happiness.

xxx

"Huh."

They were sitting in the Senior Commons; Blaine trying to wrap his head around a particularly tricky chemistry set and Sebastian was working on an essay for his comparative government class. The topic, economic liberalization in China, had been giving him a bit of trouble, although Blaine suspected it was more due to lack of interest than because the concept was a difficult one for him to grasp.

"Find something interesting?" He barely glanced up, well used to Sebastian's odd (and endearing) tendency to talk to himself while working on projects.

"E-mail," he replied in the distracted manner that meant he was concentrating on whatever had been sent to him.

Blaine kept his eyes focused on his notebook and pretended to still be working out the problem as his mind raced to wonder what Sebastian had received that was important enough that he was willing to share.

"I got in to college." Sebastian had a stunned look on his face, like he wasn't quite sure how to feel about it and he was looking to Blaine to tell him what his reaction should be.

"That's good?" Blaine tried cautiously. "To be in somewhere… at all. Even if it's not your first choice. At least you've got something?" He tried not to feel too bad about the fact that he still hadn't told… well anyone about his own news on that front. Honestly, with everything that had gone on since, it had completely been pushed from his mind.

"It is though. My first choice." He let out a choked noise that sounded like it wanted to be a laugh.

"Oh! That's… that's really great, Sebastian." He felt the grin spreading across his face because it was hard to not be excited about something like that (although Sebastian seemed to be doing a pretty good job of it). "Where is it?"

As much as Dalton boys didn't tend to talk about their applications, he and Sebastian had avoided the topic like the plague. Blaine could at least hazard a guess as to where the other senior Warblers applied, but he didn't even know where Sebastian had been looking.

(Nor was it something he let himself think about too much because chances were they'd be hundreds if not thousands of miles apart and if couldn't make a relationship work with only 500 miles distance he couldn't imagine what being in two entirely different countries would do.)

"King's College," he swallowed heavily. "For business management."

That wasn't at all what he was expecting. He had been waiting for the name of some school he'd never heard of. But he had looked at King's, only briefly, before his attention turned elsewhere. "Isn't that…"

"In London," Sebastian chewed on his lip nervously. "I didn't apply anywhere here," he admitted. "I looked at Columbia and NYU, but I've lived in New York before and I'm sure I'll live there again. I just wanted somewhere new. And London seemed like it could be that place for me." He looked almost apologetic.

"I understand. I more than understand." Blaine laughed giddily, unable to keep his relief and excitement in any longer.

"Blaine?" Sebastian asked in confusion.

"I got in to Imperial for Biology," Blaine grinned again. "I don't really know how close they are to each other, but at least it's the same city."

"You're... What? When did that happen?"

"Friday before last. I was on my way to tell you but," he struggled to find the appropriate words.

"Things happened," Sebastian finished for him sadly. And suddenly the whole atmosphere of the room changed, any vague remnants of enthusiasm being sucked away.

"Yeah." Blaine wanted to kick himself for saying anything. That had been the closest thing to a normal interaction they had had in days and Blaine had to go and ruin it with his carelessness.

Sebastian smiled tightly in response.

xxx

"Attention, gentlemen," crowed Trent from the front of the room. They moment they caught sight of the envelope clutched in his hands everyone fell silent. With only a month left until Regionals there was only one thing that their captain could be holding. "As you are all aware, Regionals is rapidly approaching. But we _finally_ know who our competition is going to be."

"Just open it already," Frey groaned. Not that he could be blamed for his anxiety. Although the countdown had originally been the butt of many jokes, seeing exactly how few rehearsals they had between now and then was quickly causing alarm for everybody.

"Before he does," Nick interrupted, "it's important to remember that, even if we don't have the exact songs picked out, we have been preparing for this for months. And, although this letter is a week later than it should be, I have full faith in our ability to pull this off."

The other schools probably didn't even notice that the announcement came later than normal. Why would they? They still had nearly an entire month to figure out what they were doing. Dalton Academy, on the other hand, started their two week long spring break in ten days. Whoever could stay in the area was, but at the end of the day the reality of the situation was that they were still teenagers and most of them had family who wanted to see them occasionally. Even Trent had only been able to commit to the first week.

The tension in the room became practically unbearable as Trent slid his finger under the envelope flap and took a deep breath before opening it. "We will be up against the Showstoppers from Huron High School and the New Directions from William McKinley High School." He looked irritated at the prospect. Blaine couldn't help but sympathize, aside from not wanting to compete against his old glee club, it was pretty ridiculous that the Warblers hadn't competed against Vocal Adrenaline since before his freshman year, but somehow this would be there third time against WMHS in the same number of years.

"And the theme," Trent pulled another face, "is throwback."

At this point in the meeting, had Blaine still been at McKinley, the room would have erupted in chatter as they all tried to express their half-formed thoughts but the Warblers all sat in contemplative silence.

"What, exactly, does 'throwback' mean?" Ethan asked eventually.

The council exchanged a look and then shrugged. "Nothing in the last 10 years?" suggested Ben.

"Maybe 15 to be safe. Older would be better, though."

"And what do we know about the Showstoppers? We must've seen footage of them, but nothing springs to mind." Ben looked guilty as though he was failing them as one of their leaders by forgetting who they were.

"Warbler Smythe, can you tell us anything?" Trent asked with only the barest hint of hesitating resentment in his voice.

"H'mm?" Sebastian looked up from where he had been staring, lost in thought, at his hands.

"Huron High Showstoppers?" prompted Ben. "Ring any bells?"

"The choir itself has been around for a while but they got a new director last year. Not overly impressive at the moment, but promising for the future. They're strong enough as a group, but they don't have anyone who stands out. They certainly won't be stopping any shows, unless another of their members passes out on the stage again," he shrugged one shoulder in a distracted manner. "We should be fine."

"How do you do that?" Blaine asked, unable to keep the surprise from his voice. Sebastian offered a half smirk in reply.

"And New Directions will probably do Journey or some other 80s band," Jeff piped up. "I remember Ku-hearing a lot of complaints about that."

"And probably a dance number," Nick hurried to cover for his best friend's slip up. "They still have one of their dancers. And the new guy."

"Britt and Ryder," Blaine corrected automatically. He knew Nick wasn't trying to be offensive and that he genuinely just couldn't remember their names but Blaine had long since gotten sick of the unnecessary enmity between the two choirs.

Nick smiled apologetically as Trent started talking again. "Since every rehearsal from here on out is crucial, the Council has decided to release you for the day while we deliberate on what we'll be singing. Suggestions are, as always, welcome but we'll need them by no later than 10 pm. We will also have a half-day practice on Saturday afternoon and an all day practice on Sunday." Even though everyone knew the extra practice were necessary, it didn't stop them from groaning as they gathered their things up.

"What do you think they'll end up picking?" Thomas asked casually as Blaine and Sebastian followed him and Vincent from the room and down the hall.

"If it's 'N SYNC or someone like that I might have to come down with a severe case of bronchitis," Vince joked. Trent's crush on Justin Timberlake was both legendary and embarrassing.

"They just barely make the 15 year cut off," Blaine chewed the inside of his lip in concern. "They weren't signed here until '98, but I think they toured Europe for a couple of years before?" He looked to his boyfriend for confirmation but apparently Sebastian's encyclopedic knowledge of basically anything Blaine ever had a question about didn't extend to 90s boy bands. "And the Warblers did a boy band last year," he continued, shooting a concerned glance at Sebastian and his lack of interest in the conversation. "Doing another this year, for the same competition no less, would be risky."

Vincent murmured his agreement before turning to his left and asking, "So what do you think, Bastian? I'm sure you already have the songs picked out and our half way through choreographing the first routine." He playfully jostled into the older boy, smiling up at him in barely concealed dorky admiration.

"I'm sure the Council has it under control. Whatever they pick will be great."

Blaine raised his eyebrows in disbelief and Tom looked like he'd just woken up in another dimension because Sebastian unapologetically considered the current council to be borderline incompetent and he certainly didn't think anything they did was great.

But Vince kept looking at Sebastian with that nauseating grin and nearly purred, "But not as great as what you would plan."

Blaine loved Vincent, he really did. He was a great kid who still looked at the world through rose tinted glasses and refused to see anything but the best in people. He had a wicked sense of humor and was unashamed of his love for rom-coms. Wes and David had even adopted him into their little family and affectionately referred to him as their grandson. But he couldn't help the jealous clench of his stomach as Sebastian practically beamed at the freshman. (And okay, it wasn't a beam, it probably only barely ranked as a smile. But Blaine had been trying for over a week to coax even half that out of him.)

The jealousy was gone barely seconds after it arrived and instead he was left feeling hot and ashamed of harboring such thoughts. Sebastian deserved whatever happiness he could get and it was beyond petty of Blaine to resent someone else for giving him that.

But it wasn't just Vince. The next day as they all made their way to the chapel for morning announcements, Blaine caught sight of Sebastian across the quad, surrounded by half his lacrosse team and heartily laughing. And the day after the he grinned like a loon when the captain of the track team sidled up to him as they were in line at breakfast and whispered something in his ear that Blaine couldn't hear.

As soon as it was just the two of them, however, Sebastian was nearly catatonic; if he wasn't staring at his textbooks with feigned intensity then he'd be staring out the window or at his bedspread. He didn't instigate conversation, although he did respond when addressed, even if it was mostly monosyllabic.

It took Blaine all of a day to come to concluded that, far from helping his boyfriend, he was somehow managing to make everything worse. When he suggested to Sebastian that he spend Thursday night in his own room, his gestured was dismissed and he selfishly let himself stay.

That night, if anything, was worse. Monosyllabic answers became barely audible grunts and the constant tossing and turning let Blaine know that he wasn't the only one who couldn't sleep.

By second period he was convinced that there was only one solution; he couldn't inflict his presence on his boyfriend for another night, and the thought of spending the night alone in Connors seemed unbearable. So he covertly snuck his phone from his pocket and texted his mother that he'd be home for the night after all.

For the first time since his return to Dalton he wished he could spend the entire weekend at home; but Trent would probably flay him alive if he missed even a minute of their intensive weekend practice. But they still had Friday's free and getting away for an evening could only be a good thing.

Sebastian was changing for practice when he stopped by to tell him about his plans. Overnight bag slung over his shoulder, Blaine stood awkwardly in the doorway and tried not to stare too obviously at his boyfriend's naked torso.

"Going somewhere, killer?" Sebastian questioned, taking in Blaine's coat and bag.

Blaine ducked his head. "Lima. Just until tomorrow. The Council would kill me if I missed rehearsal." He laughed and hoped it didn't sound too fake. The fingers on his left hand are itching to wrap around his wrist and it takes more effort than it should to keep them at his side.

"Oh." Sebastian's mouth fell open in confusion but he didn't look too distressed by the news otherwise.

He had every intention of explaining himself; telling Sebastian that it felt like right now Blaine wasn't what was good for him and that was okay. He didn't really understand, but he accepted it and he'd be there whenever Sebastian was ready for him to be. (He'd emphasis the whenever, because it didn't matter how long it took, even if it took months.) But the other Warbler looked like he was minutes away from falling apart—not in a grandiose emotional way, more like with any step he would just stop existing. And this was Blaine's problem, not their problem and certainly not Sebastian's. He was the one causing upset and he was the one who wasn't a good enough boyfriend to fix things. Sebastian didn't need this as a burden too.

"My mom wants me home to help get things organized for next weekend. Since the Anderson house is about to be invaded by Warblers. My guests, my responsibility." He rocked back on his heels and intentionally ensured he made eye contact with the taller man. It wasn't a lie, specifically. His mother had asked if he could come home and help get things ready but she had accepted it when he told her he had too much work and promised he'd take full responsibility of all the clean up.

"Toby is probably missing you too. You haven't seen him in awhile." Sebastian lips twisted up in a mockery of a smile.

Blaine felt a little sick because that convoluted imitation was all that Sebastian can give him and the probing way he was being stared at is making him want to turn and run. All in all he can never remember a time when he had been so uncomfortable to be in the same room as Sebastian Smythe, not even when he tried to apologize to them at the Lima Bean before last year's Regionals. He felt even sicker with the realization that he had no plans to swing by the barn even though it's been at least three weeks since he last went. And wow, he really was the worst person ever.

"Yeah." Blaine returned the smile. "I'm just useless all around, I guess." Sebastian's eyes narrowed suspiciously. Sebastian had always been a person that he hadn't felt the need to censor himself around and he wasn't used to having to keep things from him. "I should get going if I don't want to hit traffic." He darted forward and pecked a kiss at his boyfriend's lips and darted away again before Sebastian even had a chance to respond.

"So I'll see you tomorrow?" The hint of uncertainty barely came through, but it was almost enough to make Blaine think he had made all of this up. At least until his mind flashed to an image of Sebastian laughing with his teammates and he hardened his resolve.

"Tomorrow," he echoed.

* * *

**Annnnd I still love and adore all of you wonderful people. :-D**

**Also eeek. I may or may not have just typed up the epilogue for SYH and I'm really not sure I'm ready for that. There's still probably somewhere between 4 and 6 chapters between now and then, but it just seems alarmingly soon and there are so many other things I had wanted to include but are probably going to be relegated to the Lost Moments files and I'm really not sure how this happened. Eek. **


	30. Chapter 27

**So done with this chapter. Ugh**

* * *

Day three of giving Sebastian space and Blaine was feeling indecently proud of his self restraint. Or he would have been if the entire situation didn't just really suck. But with the sudden influx of emergency Warbler meetings and practices the amount of time the two spent together (without a cohort of other boys) had dwindled down to bizarrely awkward breakfasts where the only topic of conversation was said meetings and practices.

But the impending competition was really all any of the Warblers were thinking about. Nick had even almost been kicked out of class because he kept humming under his breath and shuffling his feet in imitation of their routine. And Trent had taken to texting him increasingly frantic messages about how they were doomed to failure and would never be able to learn all their parts in time.

Given how stressed everyone was about the whole ordeal, Blaine wasn't at all surprised when the council ask that he remain behind after practice because something just isn't working with his solo. Frankly, the problem was with the harmonies but at this stage, tweaking his part to fit them was probably the best option, although certainly not the easiest. They had just nailed down what seemed like a very promising variation when they were interrupted by the double doors flying open.

"There you are," Vince panted, looking relieved as he skidded into the commons. "I saw Sebastian headed to the tower about ten minutes ago. He looked pretty upset."

"His grandmother did just die," Trent reprimanded before turning his attention back to Blaine, looking almost comically grim as he said, "But you should probably go find him. I'm pretty sure he was drinking during rehearsal yesterday. Given the circumstances I let it slide. But we really can't afford to let it become a thing." He looked stern but begrudgingly forgiving and on either side of him Nick and Ben were nodding their agreement.

Blaine knew he had maybe been trying a little too hard to keep his distance, but he honestly had no idea how he managed to miss out on something as big as one of the Warblers, never mind the Warbler he was dating, drinking during practice. Sure, Sebastian had taken a little longer to get the choreography down than he had been expected to, but he still managed to almost perfectly execute it before Luke had managed to learn the first half.

"If you don't mind?" He looked back to the council for permission to leave, barely waiting for their consent before scooping up his satchel and hurrying from the room. No matter what he had been trying to do, something had clearly happened if his boyfriend had taken up day-drinking so close to competition. And, at the very least, he was the one who needed to handle the necessary confrontation. God only knew what Sebastian would do if he had to endure it from Trent or even Nick.

Dalton's tower was located atop the chapel and had two entrances. One was on the inside of the building that lead all the way to the top. That one had been kept locked at all times following the suicide of a junior some twenty wears back. The other entrance could be accessed form a door outside the chapel and lead to an inner chamber. Technically, that door was supposed to be locked and could only be accessed with faculty permission, but Blaine had never known anyone who had problems getting in on their own.

Warily he pushed the door open and started up the winding stairs. "Sebastian?" he called ahead of him. "Seb? Vince told me you were up here." He turned the final corner and crossed his fingers in hopes that the person he heard moving around was his boyfriend and not some couple looking for some privacy, which was the primary risk in visiting the tower. Richard and his roommate had, allegedly, walked in on an orgy once.

He stopped dead in his tracks, even more surprised than he would have been had he encountered some illicit tryst. There were (fake) candles scattered strategically around the room, spread across the floor was an blanket, surrounded by overstuffed pillows and, in the center of it all, stood a very uncomfortable looking Sebastian Smythe with a picnic basket at his feet.

"I had been lead to believe you were mere seconds away from a complete breakdown," Blaine said as relief and pleasure coursed through him in a giddy mixture that left him grinning. "What's all this?"

"Most of it was Vince's idea. He took it upon himself to decorate and went a little overboard." Sebastian cast a dark look at the cheerfully flickering candles. "The pie and wine was my idea, though."

"There's pie?" Blaine bounded over to the basket and started going through it. "Home-made pie?"

"I had to bribe coach to let me use his kitchen. If we don't make it to states he gets to use me as free manual labor when he starts renovating his house next month." Sebastian knelt down next to Blaine and took out two plates, two forks, and a knife before passing them over.

"A likely occurrence?" He cut two slices while Sebastian poured them each a glass of dessert wine.

"Hardly," he snorted, accepting the proffered plate and leaning back into the pillow pile. Crossing his legs under him, Blaine settled in next to his boyfriend.

"Should I take it that rumors of your drunken escapades were either made up or exaggerated?" At Sebastian's bemused expression he relayed Trent's statements and Nick and Ben's over eager confirmation.

"They were just supposed to keep you after for a few minutes and then make sure you were headed here." Sebastian rolled his eyes. "They're idiots."

Internally Blaine sighed, relieved that his worry had been caused by nothing more than Trent's flare for drama. "This is really good." he gestured to his plate. "May I inquire as to the occasion?"

Sebastian shrugged. "I realized that we hadn't done anything since we got together. And I know I've been a bit," he paused to take another sip of wine, "..._off_lately. I wanted to apologize for that. Probably not how you pictured the start of our relationship going." His hollow and self-deprecating laugh echoed around the cavernous room.

"What?" Blaine's eyes widened. "You have nothing to apologize for, Seb." He set his plate aside and scooted even closer so he could focus all of his attention on the boy next to him. "Nothing at all. I've just been worried about you." He allowed himself to trace Sebastian's face with his index finger. "You look tired."

Sebastian often seemed tired, there were weeks when Blaine forgot what he didn't look like with too pale skin and darkened circles under his eyes. Not really an uncommon look for any Dalton boy, but Sebastian seemed to wear it a bit more than most; a result of too many responsibilities taken too seriously.

"Turns out, I sleep better when I'm being crowded out of my own bed," he responded nonchalantly but Blaine couldn't miss the confusion swimming in his eyes.

He wondered if they'd ever reach a point where Sebastian ceased to speak in coded riddles and would just be able to say I've missed you.

"I just… I didn't understand. You seemed so much happier when you're not with me. When you're with your lacrosse friends or whoever." He felt his body drawing in on itself and had to force his arms to not curl up and around his torso.

Idly, Sebastian traced nonsensical patterns on Blaine's leg, humming a little as he thought to himself. "They aren't you, killer," he finally shrugged.

"But… what makes me different? I know we're dating," the world tumbled awkward off his tongue. Sure he had thought it, but never really said it and, despite the seriousness of the situation his heart speed up a little. "but they're your friends, Sebastian. Your teammates."

"I let you be different."

Blaine wasn't entirely sure what that meant, but he knew it was something big. Maybe even bigger than when Sebastian agreed to date him. Or maybe he was saying the same thing, just in more meaningful words. But before he could ask for clarification, Sebastian dipped his head down and claimed Blaine's lips in a kiss.

Blaine recalled a time when he thought kisses only said two things; _I love you, _and _I want you. _Sometimes he thought it was a little ironic that Sebastian Smythe of all people was the one that taught him differently. Sebastian might not say a lot with his words, but his kisses said everything. _I had a bad day. I want to fuck you. You look bored. I want you to fuck me. Your hair is ridiculous_, and so on and so forth until Blaine thought they could probably get away with never saying anything to each other again and only talk in kisses.

_I'm yours,_ this one said.

A lot sooner than he would've liked, Sebastian was pulling away. Even when it wasn't about sex, Blaine really, really liked kissing his boyfriend and he had more than enough of serious conversations for the day, but if the look on Sebastian's face was anything to go by, they weren't quite done yet.

"So, what do you think about the song selection? I have to admit, I would not have picked _Breakfast at Tiffany's_ for our duet. It'll certainly be an unexpected choice." Sebastian commented neutrally. Given his tone he might as well be talking about the weather, but the probing question in his green eyes asked so much more.

Blaine sighed and picked his fork back up, twirling it between his fingers as he thought about how to answer. He supposed that when it came down to it, he could never blame Sebastian for not wanting to talk about what he was feeling because Blaine hated talking about himself like that too.

The thing about loving someone, at least when you were Blaine Anderson, was that you didn't ever really stop. Love wasn't something you just casually did because you were bored and thought you might fancy someone. Despite his peers rather cavalier attitude on the subject, he knew love was time and effort and something you put your whole heart into.

After the near constant fury had dwindled down, knowing that had been the hardest part of his breakup with Kurt. Walking away with the knowledge that a part of his heart would always lie with a man who so carelessly and readily broke it. Because that _had_ been love, for both of them, no matter what infuriated things he had said to the contrary.

But every day it hurt less and less to think about. And one day, he knew, it would hardly hurt at all. And maybe eventually there would come a time when he could walk by his ex on the street and offer him a smile that was at least 80% genuine. Hopefully that time might even come sooner than expected, but it wasn't here yet.

Would he have preferred to sing a different song? Definitely. And if he didn't know Trent and Nick so well, he would have thought that the council had specifically picked the song to torture him with memories of his failed relationship. But they didn't know Kurt like he did, and certainly weren't that aware of the specifics of the problems in their relationship.

He didn't want to sing it, but he thought maybe he could. No, he knew he had to. He wasn't going to make them change it so close to the competition; not when Nick had pulled an all-nighter arranging it and Ben (under Sebastian's tutelage) had done so much work with the choreography.

"A different choice, certainly. But I'm pretty sure we'll kill it." He grinned and made sure to hold Sebastian's gaze long enough to relay that this really was something he really was okay with.

"Of course we will," Sebastian finally snorted. "Poor bastards don't even stand a chance."

"Do you actually feel bad for McKinley?" Blaine gaped in mock surprise.

"Have you met them? Of course I do. But their attempts at being a real show choir are mildly endearing. Like watching the runt of the litter try and hobble around for the first time."

"Those are my friends."

"And I'm sure they're lovely people," in a tone that sounded anything but sure. Not that Blaine could really fault him, Sebastian really hadn't ever had a run-in with the New Directions in which he wasn't compared to a rodent or had his hair insulted. (Although Sebastian was far from innocent in any of those encounters. If anything he was the party to leave least upset.)

"You like Santana."

"I like the dumb cat videos she sends you. And she has a brutal and bitchy honesty that I begrudgingly respect. That's a long way away from liking."

"You like me," Blaine smiled and batted his eyelashes flirtatiously.

"You shouldn't listen to everything you hear, killer."

"But I know it's true," Blaine mumbled, nipping a path up Sebastian's neck. "I have first hand confirmation." To accentuate his point, he let his hand drift lower and rub against Sebastian's hip bone, grinning when the other boy bucked up into the touch.

"Still not sure I believe you," Sebastian growled before flipping them over, just barely avoiding the hardly touched pie, and pointedly grinding down. Blaine responded by unbuttoning the top three button's of Sebastian's shirt and sucking a hickey into his clavicle, in the exact spot that always left him a frantic, whimpering mess.

"You were saying?"

Sebastian suddenly shifting his weight to force Blaine on top of him was all the answer he was going to get.

xxx

By the end of the week he and Sebastian had more than made up (several times, in fact. As the lines of tensions slowly ebbed away from Sebastian's face the spark of their relationship was rekindled with vigor.) The only moment of contention occurred when Sebastian confessed that he had alternate plans for the upcoming break and would be spending the two weeks in Rio instead of at Blaine's practicing with the Warblers.

"I didn't figure your parents would be overly thrilled to see me," he defended himself, arms held rigidly at his side. "Not after last year."

"They don't know what actually happened. The New Directions cleaned me up on the way to the hospital. I was pretty out of it; I don't remember what they told them. But it was made to sound like an accident, I think. It's why they didn't press charges." He wasn't sure if the admission was meant to ease Sebastian's guilt, but once it was out it felt right; a final confession about that night that lingered between them.

Sebastian shook his head. "I couldn't." And Blaine understood, although he considered so much an ugly part of their past clearly Sebastian didn't and that wasn't something anyone could force to change.

xxx

Between making sure the Warblers had directions to Blaine's house and Sebastian's frantic search for his passport, their parting had been brief and nowhere near as involved as they would've liked as Jeff impatiently tapped his foot in Blaine's doorway.

"Try not to have too much fun," Blaine said, pointedly not thinking about Christmas break and Sebastian running amok in Italy.

"I'll be a saint," Sebastian teased with a wink but a kiss that sealed it as a promise.

Any feelings of missing he might have felt were drowned out as Dom and Ethan loudly fought over the radio station until Frey plugged in his iPod and forced them to listen to Polka music as punishment. Blaine had always prided himself on his eclectic taste in music, but it paled in comparison to the sophomore's.

By the time they pulled into the Anderson's driveway, Nick, Jeff, and Ethan are impatiently waiting for them whining that they'd been there for _hours_. Given Nick's penchant for speeding that was probably less of an exaggeration than it should've been. Trent's car pulled in right behind them, reporting that they'd passed Ben a little ways back.

Everyone grabbed random bags as Blaine directed them through the house and into the basement.

Nick and Jeff immediately laid claim to their favorite couch while Ethan exclaimed over the space.

Spacious was one word to describe it. It was divided into three sections; a storage area that was walled off, a main sitting area, and what could only be described as an mini-dance studio which had replaced a guest bedroom at Cooper's insistence before Blaine had even been born. With the two of them grown up, his mother had taken to using it for jazzercise or whatever her latest fitness fad was. But Blaine could remember the hours he and Coop had spent down there running back and forth from the tv to the mirrored area as they watched old musicals and attempted to replicate the numbers.

One of his earliest memories was of a long weekend- the first of many that his parents were out of town for, leaving Cooper in charge. Minutes after their father's car pulled from the garage, Coop had unplugged the toaster and the microwave, passing the smaller appliance to Blaine before whispering 'follow me' and dashing downstairs. The next twenty minutes had been spent 'gathering supplies' of pillows, blankets, and enough junk food to feed an army. They'd retreated to the basement and spent the next three days giggling over inexpertly made s'mores, Disney movies, and screaming 'AVALANCHE' every time their fort collapsed.

"Bathroom is over there," Nick said, pointing over his shoulder. "There's also one on the main level."

"-And one upstairs, third door on the left," Jeff finished instructing. The two of them had only been over a handful of times, but Mrs. Anderson had taken to them right away and insisted that they always make themselves at home, a task they eagerly complied with.

"You have fifteen minutes to do whatever it is you need to do," Trent said, clapping his hands together to get their attention. "And then we get to work."

Dramatically, Jeff slumped further down on the couch making a noise of anguish.

It was going to be a long vacation.

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**As always, thank you to all my lovely wonderful, fantastic reviewers. I really cannot express how much they all mean to me.  
Annnd next chapter is almost done. So I promise not to make you wait too long for it. :-D**


	31. Chapter 28

**Wohoo. Who doesn't love a good time jump? Hopefully you guys to because this has 4 chapters lefts (pretty sure. Maybeee 5 if I have a crisis about his ending.) with just over 10 weeks of story left from the end of last chapter.**

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Three weeks of intensive work lead to the Warblers waking up at six in the morning and downing as much coffee as humanly possible as they stumbled their way through their morning routines.

Huron High was located just outside of Ann Arbor and, thus, just over a three hour drive from Westerville. The drive up, Blaine had always thought, was the worst part of any show choir competition. It was too early in the morning for most of them and everyone was anxious. At least the Warblers took cars, instead of a bus; trying to get all fourteen of them to agree on a radio station when they weren't all strung out on nerves was struggle enough.

He, Sebastian, and Vince were all curled up in the backseat while Tristan and Ben sat in the front. For the most part the ride had been quite, although they all almost suffered heart failure when Ben went to turn the radio on and ended up accidentally blaring Spice Girls, much to Tristan's chagrin.

"Are we sure this is the right way?" Tristan asked as they wound their way through what looked like a suburban development.

"It's what the GPS is telling us. And that looks like a main-er road up there?" Ben looked frantically back and forth from the GPS to the surrounding area.

"Does this look at all familiar to you?" Blaine nudged Sebastian awake. Huron High hosted several lacrosse tournaments throughout the year so Sebastian had been there before and, theoretically, had some semblance of an idea as to how to get there.

"Lemme sleep," was the mumbled response he got back.

"We were supposed to be there twenty minutes ago and Ben's about to have a conniption. Please just reassure him that this looks right?"

Blinking his eyes open, Sebastian looked thoroughly disgruntled but dutifully peered out the window. "Yeah, this is right. There should be a gas station on the left. Keep straight and take the second right. It'll be on the right."

"But the GPS wants me to go right up here," Tristan protested.

"Your GPS has been taking us in circles for the last ten minutes," Vincent pointed out. "We've passed that man building a tree fort about three times now."

Sighing, Ben reached over to shut off the confused electronic muttering, "Stupid piece of electronic junk." Leaving Tristan with no choice but to follow Sebastian's directions.

At last the school came into view and they all breathed a sigh of relief.

"Auditorium's around back, according to the directions and there's a parking lot just beyond that, over by the tennis courts. If you could just drop me at the doors? Trent's texted me," Ben squinted at his phone, "23 times in the last five minutes." They pulled to a stop in front of the auditorium entrance and before the car had even stopped Ben was leaping out and sprinting off.

Just beyond was probably a generous description for where the parking was located and by the time they found a place to park, even Blaine was beginning to feeling the anxiety.

They were halfway across the lot when Blaine noticed Sebastian stiffen. Looking around, he saw what appeared to be the majority of Huron's lacrosse team casually strolling towards them. (Or he assumed it to be the lacrosse team based on the sticks strapped across their backs and the pads which he recognized because he nearly tripped over similar ones at least once a week. Despite being obsessively fastidious about everything else, his lacrosse gear was constantly strewn everywhere for at least an hour after practice.)

"Just keep walking," he muttered because Vince had frozen up in front of him. Gently he nudged him forward. He knew nothing about Huron and he had no reason (other than the clenching feeling in his gut) to think they even cared about the four Warblers.

"Hey, fags," A voice rang out. As if this was some sort of command, the team began spreading out in a semi-circle around them.

"Hey, assholes," Sebastian replied nonchalantly, sauntering forward to greet the guy who must've been the captain. "Emerson," he nodded.

"What did you call us?" Emerson growled.

"Assholes. Although, really, I was only referring to you. And maybe him," he jerked his head to the guy standing next to him. "Since you called my friends fags when, as far as you know, I'm the only one of us who is a fag, it only seemed fair." Sebastian spread his arms in a mockery of a peace offering.

Blaine couldn't help the protesting whimper that escaped his mouth because it was like Sebastian wanted to get them all killed. Mimicking Sebastian's swagger, Emerson and the rest of his team continued to advance on them until they were cornered against the brick wall of the auditorium.

"Well you're certainly right about one of those things," the guy next to Emerson growled.

"You're right," apologized Sebastian. "I'm a fag and he's a cu-"

"Sebastian!" Even if he wanted to, Blaine wouldn't have been able to hide the alarm in his voice. They were hopelessly outnumbered and both Vincent and Tristan seemed like they would be useless in a fight. Not that Blaine was much better, for all that he had years of boxing on his side, his feet were frozen beneath him and all he could think about was a conversation that had started not unlike this and had ended with him in the ICU.

"Yeah, Smythe. Listen to your girlfriend. He's clearly the brains of your relationship."

"Mmm," Sebastian replied noncommittally as he moved to place himself further in between the lacrosse team and his fellow Warblers. He tilted his head to one side and Blaine wondered if he was weighing their options at getting out of this alive. Blaine was trying to come up with a way to stall them; They'd already taken longer than they should've, surely someone would be out to look for them soon. Ben and Tristan were ridiculously co-dependent and he and Sebastian were the leads; it wasn't like the Warblers could just go on without them.

"Or are you the bitch? You are, aren't you?" A guy to the far right jeered.

"Sometimes." Sebastian kept his tone light and conversational. Blaine continued trying to inch towards his boyfriend, but every time he did Sebastian moved the same distance away, putting him that much closer to their harassers. "Don't you have a practice to get to? God knows you need it."

"Don't you have a dick to suck?"

"Oh, Emerson," cooed Sebastian, walking forward with rolling hips until they were practically chest to chest. "I didn't realize you were such an exhibitionist." He dropped to his knees. "But if you insist…" Fluidly he reached his hand up in a gesture that Blaine was all too familiar with.

"Are you shitting me?" Emerson was stumbling backwards out of Sebastian's reach and looking horrified.

"Not really something I'm into. But we can try that if you really like."

The goalies to Emerson's right launched himself at Sebastian, only to be caught by his captain.

"No." Emerson shook his head. "Leave them. God only knows what diseases they have. C'mon." He spat on the ground in front of Sebastian before turning on his heels and stalking off. One by the one the rest of the team followed his example until the four of them were left alone and shaken.

"I think my honor has been insulted," Sebastian finally commented, prompting Vince to hurry to his side to help him to his feet and brush his jacket off.

"I'm sure it will recover," Tristan assured him, still keeping a wary eye on the playing field. "You are absolutely crazy, man."

"So I've been told." Sebastian looked back to where Blaine still stood rooted to the spot. "Why don't you two head inside? Trent's probably pissing himself by now." Obediently, Vince headed for the auditorium doors but Tristan hesitated. "We'll be right behind you."

"What the fuck was that?" Blaine hissed the moment Tristan was out of hearing distance. Sebastian blinked in surprise, clearly not having expected Blaine's anger. "You could've gotten us killed. YOU could've been killed."

"They weren't going to kill me," Sebastian dismissed brining his arms to wrap around his trembling boyfriend. "And I would never have let them hurt you." He kissed his forehead in what Blaine supposed was meant to be a comforting manner.

"There were TWELVE of them. What were you going to do?"

"They weren't going to _do _anything. They just wanted to intimidate us." The exasperation was beginning to leak through his tone.

"You can't know that. You can't know what they were thinking." Blaine twisted himself out of Sebastian's embrace and folded his arms around himself.

"Yes I can."

"Fine," Blaine threw his hands in the air, sick of how Sebastian was always so fucking sure of himself and how he always pretended he knew everything. "Fine. What were they thinking then?"

"They were thinking," Sebastian replied through gritted teeth, "that they couldn't start it because, while no one cares about a couple of fags, I am the captain of their rival lacrosse team and I have more in one trust fund then they'll ever make in their lives. They were also thinking," he continued, now as angry as Blaine, "that they wanted to provoke me into attacking them, so they could claim self-defence. They were thinking that the testimony of the four of us wouldn't mean much if they had a few bruises of their own."

"How can you possibly know that?" Blaine still hadn't stopped shaking and couldn't bring himself to drop the argument, even though what Sebastian was saying made a lot of sense.

"Because I know them and people like them. Just because I've never been sent to the hospital or chased out of school doesn't mean I've never been bashed before. I'm a fucking gay athlete, Blaine. You know as well as I do that nowhere is like Dalton. Locker rooms are the same no matter what country you're in."

Blaine felt suddenly wrong-footed. He was still upset over how Sebastian had just acted and he also felt a little like that comment was somehow meant as an insult to himself. But he also felt like had was missing something crucial.

The other boys' being gay was something he had taken for granted. The unhesitating confidence he had in his sexuality, Blaine assumed, had always been there. He had imagined a younger Sebastian waking up one day, just knowing that he was homosexual before hurrying off to indulge himself in everything that could mean. Envisioned Sebastian spending his adolescence bouncing from Dalton to Dalton where he was always a star performer and athlete. Always popular in his own way and certainly never harassed for who he was.

Apparently, Blaine had been wrong.

"Don't," Sebastian sighed and clenched his hand into a fist before letting it relax again. "It wasn't that big of a deal. But I do understand."

"We need to get inside." They were meant to be on stage in less than an hour and Blaine's mind was racing. He could think of very few times in his life when he felt less like performing (his first solo with his church's children's choir came to mind. He had had the flu and spent the hour before the left crying). But the Warblers hadn't worked that hard just for Blaine to mess everything up because a couple of jocks decided to be idiots.

Stepping closer, Blaine stretched up to kiss Sebastian's check, as close to reconciliation as he could offer. Sebastian always had a rather unorthodox way of dealing with things and as soon as he managed to get his breathing under control he would be able to acknowledge that. He'd still be upset about it, and probably offer up a lecture on exactly how wrong it had been, but at least he'd be able to accept that Sebastian really hadn't been trying to put them in dancer. Until then he was just going to focus all of his energy on the upcoming competition.

xxx

The Warblers had ten minutes before they were needed to be backstage by order of Trent. Blaine still wasn't sure whether he wanted to talk to Sebastian but he was getting sick of the worried frown Nick and Jeff kept shooting at him every three seconds and the way the rest of the guys kept just popping up and to ask him how he was doing, accompanied by a hearty clap to the shoulder. He appreciated that they cared, but really it only served to keep putting him on edge.

"I going to go find Seb." With a gentle smile he shook Dom's arm from where it was draped around his shoulder and tried not to tense up as he felt the eyes of half the Warblers follow him.

He expected to find Sebastian off in one of the wings with Vincent and Ben gathering intel on the competition in whatever manner they could manage. When he wasn't there he headed off in search of a bathroom only to run in to Nick (and concerned look of worry #329) who assured him he hadn't seen Sebastian there. He checked the concession stand the school had set up but was once again disappointed.

Logically, he knew that Sebastian didn't make his way back outside to finish what was started with the lacrosse team. Not only had he managed to get the last word in but he desperately cared about winning and knew the Warblers had no chance without him. Blaine knew it was the anxiety talking but that doesn't stop him from making for the main doors just to check.

The main hallway was deserted except for two solitary figures at the other end. With a grateful sigh he identified the taller of the two as his errant boyfriend. After another step he simultaneously recognized the person he's with and realized that they're engaged in a heated discussion.

Sebastian and Santana had certainly never been friends, but Blaine thought they had managed to get beyond most of their differences, enough that they'd at least be able to manage a civilized conversation. Or whatever passed for civilized when both parties preferred sarcasm and scathing remarks.

Whatever they were fighting about, Santana seemed to be holding her ground despite Sebastian towering over her. Blaine watched as Santana leaned forward and pressed one slender (and somehow still terrifying) finger to the center of Sebastian's chest, growling something under her breath and pushing him out of her space before stalking off down the hall, presumably to the far entrance of the auditorium.

Hurriedly he stumbled the three steps back down the hall and around the corner and hoped that Sebastian didn't notice him. He thought about going to hunt down Santana and make her tell him what was going on but the buzzing of his cell phone reminded him that he had somewhere to be. Whatever was going on between Sebastian and Santana was their own issue and clearly (probably) nothing he should concern himself with.

The backstage area was even busier now than it was before but the Warblers managed to claim a small space, tucked just a bit into a corner. Just behind Jeff stood Sebastian, hands in his pockets as he calmly observed the blond boy's choreography. Stopping him for a moment to remind Jeff that its two steps instead of one before he looked up and met Blaine's eyes, cautiously smiling at him until Blaine tentatively smiled back.

"Good of you to join us," he drawled and for a second Blaine forget that Sebastian isn't Captain. "Once more through the third verse of _Little Bitty Pretty One_ then we'll take our seats. If we haven't got it yet we might as well just hand the trophy over to New Directions." He fixed them all with a stern glare and even Trent was falling into place; nerves had always gotten the best of Trent before competition and Blaine thought he might secretly be relieved that someone was taking over, even if that someone was Sebastian.

They made it through the third (and fourth) verse without fault and despite Blaine's misgivings about whatever Sebastian was up to, he felt a prideful beam spreading wide across his face, entirely eclipsing everything else he had been feeling. Always hesitant of getting ahead of himself, he couldn't help but think that maybe they really had this as they filed into the auditorium and took their seats behind the Showstoppers and across the aisle from the seats that would later be filled by the New Directions.

Surreptitiously he slipped his phone from his pocket to text Sugar, Britt, and Eli good luck. He had hoped to tell them in person before the show but hadn't managed to get in more than a rushed wave when he saw them backstage.

Britt replied with a **U too blaine ****warbler**_**. **_Eli sent back**Can't wait to see you up there ;-)**, and from Sugar he got an enthusiastic **U BOYS BETTER BE READY TO GET UR ASSES KICKED! ND IS 2 HOTTTT 2 HANDLE**!

When the judges were announced and the lights were dimmed Blaine's hand found itself creeping over the divider and into Sebastian's who looked a little surprised but otherwise grasped it without complaint. Hand holding wasn't really their thing. But the last vestiges of whatever had been hanging between them disappeared with the gesture and Blaine felt his heart lighten.

The difference between the New Directions they had watched Sectionals tapes of and the New Directions on the Regionals' stage was astounding. Tina had _finally_ been given her solo and even though she and Blaine had never been particularly close, he couldn't help but feeling astoundingly proud of her as she dropped into a quick curtsey at the end of her song.

Although the vocals during _Jump, Jive, and Wail_ left something to be desired, Brittany's acrobatic dancing was probably the most impressive Blaine had ever seen at one of these competitions. Ryder wasn't even close to on the same level as her, but the work he had put in to improving was more than evident.

Before Artie had even finished the last note of their final song, Blaine was cheering manically, much to the amusement of his fellow Warblers.

"Like you weren't doing the same thing when it was me up there," Blaine laughed, hauling Sebastian to his feet as the New Directions took their final bows. "Don't think I never saw you."

"Good to know my efforts weren't wasted," Sebastian preened.

Under the pretense of smoothing Sebastian's collar, Blaine leaned in closer and breathed, "Definitely not wasted."

With the Huron High Showstoppers preparing to take the stage, the Warblers left their row and headed to the empty room they had been assigned for last minute preparations.

Blaine stood in front of the mirror, checking his hair for any escaped wisps that were in need of a last minute gel while next to him Jeff kept tying and untying his tie, convinced that it looked wrong. Exasperated, Nick finally batted his best friend's hands away and did it himself, muttering 'it's not like you do this every morning,' fondly under his breath.

"Roll me?" Sebastian purred, sashaying up to his fellow lead and dangling a lint roller in front of him.

Blaine took the roller from him and began carefully sweeping it over his blazer. He could see Sebastian's pulse quickening in his neck but when he looked up to scold him for his unnecessary libido, he was meet with a look of wide-eyed excited anticipation that he knew was echoed on his own face.

Sebastian when he was performing had always been such a fantastic sight for Blaine. He looked so unspeakably different than he did normally; the tension he normally carried with him dropped away and was replaced with the most breath taking smile. And even though Blaine would never, ever admit it aloud, Sebastian Smythe was made to be the center of attention.

"They're on their last song," Tristan trilled, flitting back into the room to report. "They're on their last song."

As they made their way backstage the anxiety in the air was palpable and it only increased as the final notes of the Showstopper's number floated back towards them. Obviously a couple bars weren't enough to judge their entire performance off of, but they did sound good. Really good.

But dwelling on either of the other choirs was pointless, especially at this stage. The Warblers had slaved over their set and Blaine was confident that they were at their best.

When they were signaled to take the stage Blaine bounded to his spot, unable to keep his exhilaration down. Behind him, Sebastian followed at a much more sedate pace with the rest of the Warblers right behind him. Once everyone was in their places Blaine made sure to offer his most confident and reassuring smile to them before turning to face the audience.

Then they were being announced to resounding applause and the stage was being flooded with lights and he and Sebastian were stepping forward as the music for their duet started.

There was nothing, _nothing, _to compare with how he felt when he was competing; stage lights making everything too hot, especially in the blazer, and the cheering of the crowd a dull roar in the background, his heart pounding in his chest and the desperate pull for oxygen between lines. Looking over to his boyfriend, he knew that he felt the exact same thrill and his heart nearly thudded out of his chest as they moved in perfect synchronization across the stage.

xxx

The judges deliberation seemed to last forever as they paced around their room, barely talking to each other except in grunts. With the high of performing worn off Blaine had claimed a chair off to the side where he sat bouncing his leg and replaying every moment of their performance in his head until Sebastian came over and actually sat on his lap, forcing him to still his frenetic movements.

_At last_ they were being lead back onto the stage to stand in between the Showstoppers and the New Directions. The fidgeting happening around him was about to drive him crazy as he took the opposite approach and stood stock still, hands clasped in a death grip in front of him, only releasing them to politely applaud the Showstopper's third place finish.

"And in second place..." There was an overly long pause as the envelope was fumbled with. "The New Directions from William McKinley High. Making the Dalton Academy Warblers 2013's Midwest Regional Champions."

There was a moment of stunned silence before he was half-buried under a pile of jumping bodies.

"We did it! We did it!" Jeff chanted in his ear as he twisted around to hug whoever was next to him (Nick, as it turned out). As one they pushed Trent forward to claim their trophy from the mayor's wife while Blaine worked to disentangle himself from the writhing mass of to go to where the New Directions were standing around Artie and their own second place trophy.

"Your performance was fantastic."

"You too, Blaine Warbler," Brittany replied dispiritedly as the rest of the glee club nodded despondently behind her. For their sake he tried his hardest to keep his grin to a bare minimum.

"Yeah, Blaine. You were really great, man," Sam managed with a little bit more enthusiasm.

Worming her way to the front, Sugar offered him a tearful hug that he returned with interest. He knew how much losing sucked, especially after they had done so well the year before. And she might not be the most talented in the group (although God knew how much she had improved) but she put her whole heart into it.

"I expect drunk texts tonight, Blaineybear," she informed him seriously. "Now get back to your cohorts. They can't celebrate without their star." Normally Blaine would launch into a wholehearted denial about his stardom; insisting that the Warblers win was a group effort and no one person's contribution was greater than anyone else's but it seemed a little insensitive given the circumstances so he bit his tongue.

As if on cue, Jeff came bounding across the stage and tugged at the back of Blaine's jacket.

"You guys really were great," Blaine said again and offered one last smile before giving in to Jeff.

The tallest of the group, Sebastian had been given the trophy to hoist high above everybody, all animosity and politics forgotten in the ecstatic frenzy. Around him the other boys hooted in triumph, wrestling in and out of hugs and punching one another in the arms in a boyish show of jubilation. Grinning manically, he let himself be pulled back into their fold.

* * *

**So I checked the traffic stats on for the first time since like July and either it's broken or holy wow there are a lot more people reading this than I thought. So umm hi? You're all beautiful and I love you a lot, a lot, a lot.  
Also I just recently surpassed 200 reviews, which is incredible. So thank you to everyone who has submitted one (or 20+). There are not words to express my gratitude. **


	32. Chapter 29

**It was not at all intentional that I waited until today to update. (Ok, maybe a little.) Because today is February 18****th**** aka the day our beautiful boys finally start dating.  
Also a very Happy Birthday to the wonderful Collykins!**

**And for anyone interested/that missed it, I did do a SYH Valentine's Day one-shot called All That I Can Give To You so I haven't been completely negligent for the last 2+ weeks. **

* * *

Vincent was being hailed as the man of the hour for once again offering up his house to host their party. It was, as Nick repeatedly a little too loudly, just too big of a celebration to be confined to the Outhouse.

Sebastian and Jeff were also being lauded for doing the booze run at the beginning and the evening and coming back with more alcohol than Blaine had ever seen in the back of one car in his life. There was absolutely no way they were going to drink it all in a single night. Not without all of them dying of alcohol poisoning, at least.

Actually, the way the night had been going, he was pretty sure they were going to be toasting to the recliner in the corner of the room next. As it was, the Senior Warblers had taken to raising their glasses whenever they caught sight of him, even forcing him to drink to himself after they walked by a mirror.

"Blaiiiiine," Vincent cried, throwing himself at his fellow Warbler. Whether they had finally given up on their 'don't let the freshmen get drunk' rule (as they had Blaine's freshman year) or Vince had been sneaking drinks on the side, he was certainly very, very intoxicated now. "They want to know why you aren't playing with themmm." He gestured off to the left where most of the guys were gathered and getting set to play what looked like Asshole.

After three rounds of pong, and half an hour each of quarters and flip cup Blaine definitely needed a break from drinking. He wasn't a complete lightweight but most of the Warblers were about twice his size and he had learned very early on that there was no point in trying to match most of them drink for drink; except for Jeff who actually was a light weight. For their 16th birthdays both boys had jokingly been given thimbles to use as shot glasses.

"You," he took a moment to steady his hand so it was pointed directly at Vince, "should pro'lly sit." He patted the stool next to him. "You are too young for such de- depr- depravity, young man."

"Yes, mother." Sulking, Vince sat down and managed to keep the pout up for all of five seconds before beginning to hum a nonsensical tune, bouncing around in what he probably thought was time to the melody.

"If you think this is bad, you should have seen him on Halloween," Tristan laughed, clapping a hand on Blaine's shoulder and nearly knocking him over. "This time we're keeping him well away from the brownies."

"He slept for like two days straight after that," Thomas nodded, pulling up another stool. "I thought Smythe was gonna murder us when he found out."

"Speaking of Smythe," Dom appeared from nowhere and nudged jovially at Blaine's ribs with his elbows.

"What about him?" Blaine asked warily. There were two ways he could envision the conversation going and he wasn't interested in either option.

"You know." Another nudge followed by an over exaggerated wink and some crude hand gesturing.

"LALALALAAA," Vincent shrieked clapping his hands over his ears.

"Oh, the purity of youth," sighed Tristan.

"Didn't Frey say somethin' about Smash Bros?" Blaine asked as though he was genuinely interested and not just looking for a distraction.

There was a mad dash to the other room, quickly followed by the echoing sounds of a tussle for the controllers. By the sound of it, Dom was the left out party.

He took another swig of beer, content in having a moment to himself. He loved all of the Warblers, and loved celebrating with them, but it had been an eventful day. It was pushing 1 in the morning and he was edging towards exhausted.

"You still alive?" Sebastian's voice teased. At some point his head had made its way onto the countertop. Suddenly the combination of fatigue and alcohol was starting to make his vision swim.

"Hey, you," he responded, smiling dopily and reaching out to pull his boyfriend closer so he could cuddle into his chest which made a much better cushion than the cold marble. "Jus' tired."

"I think the plan was to all pass out down here, but they're going to be up for a while yet." Sebastian tapped his fingers against Blaine's back contemplatively. Next thing he knew, Blaine was being hoisted up and placed on his feet.

"Where're we goin'?" he whined, stumbling along the hallways and tripping up the stairs until he finally found himself lying on a bed somewhere. Giggling, he rolled over and buried his face in the downy pillows. "'S nice here. Like marshmallows."

"Mmm," Sebastian replied noncommittally, annoyingly sober given how much Blaine assumed he had been drinking that evening. Even when he was two shots from plastered, Sebastian could be so ridiculously composed.

"I like marshmallows. They're nice. You're nice too. Not _nice nice._ But nice. You know?" Abruptly, Blaine flipped himself onto his back. "Nice things are nice."

"My English teacher used to tell us that nice was a superfluous word with no actually meaning."

Biting his lip, Blaine took a minute to mull over this new wisdom. "D'you know what else is _nice_?" He continued. "Having sex with you."

Grinning, Sebastian leaned closer and whispered, "You don't say?"

"Mmm. S'very nice. Very, very, verrrry nice." Blaine nodded sagely. Without warning he started trying to wriggle out of his shirt, nearly knocking Sebastian from the bed in the process.

"Easy there." Moving quickly, Sebastian straddled Blaine and pinned him down to keep his squirming to a minimum. "No sex for you," he firmly stated, although he couldn't quite keep the disappointment from his face as he said it. "You are waaay too drunk. Don't want to get hurt by your flailing, flying limbs." Gracelessly he let himself collapse forward.

"Oof," exhaled Blaine as Sebastian's full weight suddenly fell on him. It wasn't too often that Sebastian willingly laid on top of him, since he was, actually, quite a bit bigger. Secretly, though, Blaine really liked it when he did. "What if I just lay here and look pretty?"

"Fuck," Sebastian grunted because Blaine accentuated his comment with a lazy roll of his hips. "That could definitely work."

It took less than a minute for Sebastian to strip them both down to their underwear. With a wolfish grin, he gathered up Blaine's hands and laced them together behind his head and under his pillow. It wasn't a very binding solution, but the message was clear that they would be staying there for the foreseeable future.

At the best of times Blaine was rather vocal when it came to sex; although he mostly stuck to stuttered mewls and this keening moan that cut off just before its apex whenever Sebastian did that thing with his fingers that Blaine still couldn't quite replicate no matter how many times he attempted. While he was inebriated following an adrenaline filled day and a solid half hour of teasing the art of keeping quiet was, apparently, completely lost to him.

"It's like you don't even care there's a houseful of people downstairs," muttered Sebastian before he was forced to bite down on the inside of his cheek to keep from moaning just as obscenely as he finally sunk down onto Blaine.

"Would you just-" Impatiently Blaine bucked his hips.

"So fucking impatient." Offering a coy smile Sebastian finally gave in and braced himself as best he could against the headboard before setting a pace that was just this side of too slow to be considered desperate.

Neither of them heard the door open, but everyone within a five mile radius probably heard the resounding shriek of "My GRANDPARENTS sleep here!"

With a hiss, Sebastian rolled off Blaine and floundered around in search of a sheet to cover himself with. Blaine whimpered equally from embarrassment and the sudden loss of tight heat, a little too far gone to manage anything else.

"Can you maybe leave?" Sebastian snapped. He was propped up on his elbows, back to the door and teeth gritted in frustration.

"You were having sex. In the bed they sleep in. My Nana and Papa," Vince continued to lament, hands clapped over his eyes. Peeking out from between his fingers he caught sight of Blaine's naked, sweat slicked chest and let out another distressed cry.

"Vincent!"

"I'm going to go. And, after not being able to look either of you in the eyes for the next two weeks, we are going to pretend this never happened. Okay?" Vincent babbled, back pedaling from the room."Night!" He yelled before slamming the door closed behind him.

Curling himself up around Sebastian, Blaine placed a gentle kiss to his shoulder blade and murmured, "That is not at all how I thought tonight would end."

xxx

**From: Santana Lopez  
Congrats on your Regionals win. Britt told me you guys killed it. **

Blaine stared blankly at his phone. Had Santana left right after New Directions performed? He couldn't help but be a little hurt at the prospect. Maybe she had to get back to Kentucky and just couldn't stick around? She wasn't really the warm fuzzy 'stay and support your friends' type but that had to have been at least a 5 hour drive.

**From: Gay Hobbit  
Oh, did you leave early? **

**From: Santana Lopez  
Couldn't make it. Something came up at Kenfuckeme last minute. Sucks I missed it.**

**From: Santana Lopez  
Word on the street says that my girl owned that stage.**

**From: Gay Hobbit  
Yeah. She really did. **

Santana had in the auditorium. He knew he had seen her arguing with Sebastian. And now she was claiming to have been in an entirely different state.

**From: Gay Hobbit  
I thought I saw you there? **

**From: Santana Lopez  
Quit daydreaming of me, twinkeltoes. My vagina would eat your dick alive**.

And that was an imagine he definitely could have lived without. He wasn't gay (or blind) enough to not be able to see that Santana was objectively, very attractive. But that appreciation was best done with her clothes fully on. And maybe far away from him, at least until those thoughts were bleached from his mind.

"You look like you're about to be sick."

"Texting Santana," Blaine grunted. Throwing his phone off to the side and glaring at it.

"Ah. That would make me sick too."

Blaine sighed, not in the mood to deal with Sebastian's snark and intolerance of his friends. "She said she didn't make it to Regionals."

"She was planning on coming?"

Blaine absolutely hated how blank Sebastian's face could be. That even if he was directly lying to his face, Blaine would never know because everything was said with the same neutral, disinterested expression. Because it probably wasn't a lie that Sebastian had no idea that Santana was planning on going, but he knew that she was there.

"Can we not do this? Just tell me what you were fighting about."

He half expected Sebastian to tell him that he had no idea what he was talking about. To look him point blank in the eye and tell him it had never happened. He could feel the annoyance building up inside of him and a small, rational, part of him was saying that he was just looking for a fight at this point.

Clearly Sebastian sensed that too and decided to try and delay the inevitable. "It doesn't need to concern you, killer."

"Did it? Concern me?" Because he wasn't really sure what else they could have been disagreeing over. Sebastian made obvious his dislike for her and Santana never hid the fact that she didn't approve of the fact that he and Sebastian were friends; which was why he had yet to mention that they were more than that.

Sebastian's pointed silence was answer enough. For several long minutes they glared at each other. And Blaine was seconds away from just fucking leaving until Sebastian was ready to tell him what had happened because the only other alternatively he could see was spending the next hour wheedling it out of him.

Finally Sebastian sighed and didn't even have the gall to look away as he said, "Hummel was there."

"What?" He felt like all the air had suddenly been sucked from the room because that had not at all been what he had anticipated.

"She was coming to find you to warn you but ran into me first. I persuaded her that it would be in their best interest to leave before you were made aware of his presence."

"That wasn't your decision to make."

"You had enough to deal with already. You were still shaken from the idiots in the parking lot and minutes away from performing."

"God forbid something keep me from doing that. Because that trophy is so fucking precious to you." Whether it was the Warblers trying to get him back last year or the New Directions covering up what Sebastian had done when he slushied Blaine, it was always about the stupid competition and winning that damn trophy. And he was an idiot for thinking that would ever change. Especially with someone as egocentric as Sebastian fucking Smythe.

He couldn't help but flinch as Sebastian rose to his feet and seethed, "It wasn't about the fucking competition," before storming from the room.

Blaine didn't let him get far, sprinting after him and grapping at his shoulders, forcing him to turn around. As much as he had never wanted to be _that couple_—the one that awkwardly conducted their affairs in the middle of the hallway without a care as to who could overhear—he couldn't just leave it either. Fortunately, Dalton's dorms in the middle of the day tended to be pretty empty.

"What was it about then?" He wanted it to mean that it was about him, for once. Wanted it to mean that to Sebastian. But more than that he wanted to hear it from the other boy's lips. He didn't need constant verbal ascertains that there actually is something more than sex between the two of them; he wasn't entirely oblivious. He saw the way Sebastian looked at him, different than how he looks at everyone else and knew what it was like to lay in his arms night after night. Sometimes, though, he just needed to know that he wasn't making the entire thing up in his head.

"Where's the letter from my grandfather?"

It took Blaine a minute to even figure out what Sebastian was talking about, not because he hadn't thought about the letter every day since he took it, but because it had absolutely nothing to do with the conversation they were having.

Just before spring break Blaine had trekked over the mail room and had checked both his and Sebastian's mailboxes, like he always did because Sebastian couldn't be bothered to go more than once a month. There hadn't been much in either but he collected the mail from them and aimlessly looked through it as he walked back to Connors. The name Smythe in the upper left-hand corner of one envelope caught his eye and made his stomach clench. He hadn't even thought twice about shoving it into the middle of his chem book, knowing full well that Sebastian would never look through it.

"If I asked for it right now would you give it to me?" pressed Sebastian.

"Of course," his mouth said as he mind said 'no'.

"And why not?" Sebastian asked slowly, ignoring the words he heard in favor of the ones he knew Blaine meant.

Neither of them was willing to back down and as much as he thought Sebastian was in the wrong, he knew he had done the right thing. Because he had been the one scrambling to comfort Sebastian and had seen him in the wake of his grandmother's passing and he could tell when he was thinking about his family by the way his lips would twist up in a scowl and his eyes would shutter closed.

Maybe, just maybe Sebastian felt the same way. And maybe neither one of them had to be in the right so much as just doing what was right for the other because they couldn't be trusted to do it for themselves.

"I'm going for a run." They were both in their uniforms and was meant to be in class in twenty minutes but instead of protesting Blaine took the hint and stepped aside so Sebastian could go back to his room and change. "I'll see you before practice?"

"Yeah." Blaine nodded and couldn't help but let one of his hands reach out to grab Sebastian's, receiving a brief squeeze in response before it was pulled away. "See you later."

* * *

**A continued thank you to all of my reviewers and readers. My mind is still boggled that so many of you have interest in my story and I'm endlessly grateful for all of you.**

**For some weird reason my professors have decided they actually want us to do work this semester. So I'm not entirely sure when the next chapter will be out. I also kind of want to get some non-SYH stuff written, but we'll see how that goes.**


	33. Chapter 30

**I realize it's been a month since my last update and for that I apologize. Those of you who follow my writing on tumblr know I went through a bit of an angst period and Sebastian really didn't fare that well. So in the interest of this not suddenly becoming a tragedy I kind of put it aside for a while. So yes, it's late but Sebastian is still alive so I'd say that's a fair trade.**

* * *

"Up," commanded Blaine as he bustled around the room, throwing random clothes into an overnight bag. He paid careful attention to only selecting sweats and other clothing that were soley conducive to spending the day doing absolutely nothing. His own similarly packed bag was already sitting in the car.

"No." If Sebastian hadn't sounded so exhausted his uncharacteristic petulance would have been hilarious. "I'm not leaving this bed until Monday morning. For anything." One of his hands poked out to wrap protectively around the edge of the mattress.

According to the calendar there were seven weeks between Regionals and Nationals. If asked, The Warblers were pretty sure they didn't believe the calendar, especially the upper classmen who had to contend not only with the approaching competition but also with the dreaded task of taking the AP exams.

Blaine couldn't recall it being this frantic last year at McKinley. He had only been taking two advanced placement classes; biology and English (the latter because of the horror stories Wes and David passed on about English gen eds). Kurt was in AP French but that had been his only one. Quinn, he vaguely recalled, had been more stressed than usual, but the fact that she was recovering from an car accident that had left her temporarily paralyzed was also a large factor there.

But the Warblers were borderline neurotic come the middle of April. Even poor, laid back Jeff had taken to ranting about how the national show choir board needed a serious talking too because they lack basic planning abilities because two of their three competitions always coincided with high-stress times in school.

And as bad as they all had it, the guys who were on sports teams had it even worse. All of that combined with the fact that their seasons were coming to an end meant that Dom, Sebastian, and Tristan were basically zombies; shuffling into practice, hair still wet from the shower, only to flop onto the couches until they absolutely had to get up. The moment Trent's gavel banged in dismissal they joined in the exodus to the library where they stared bleary-eyed at their textbooks until they were kicked out. Inevitably one of the three would end up dozing off at the table and it was a punishable offense to disturb them for at least fifteen minutes at which point it became equally criminal to let them continue sleeping.

If it hadn't been for the freshmen and sophomores the Warblers probably would have given in entirely to Trent's distressed claims that they were doomed. (And Blaine remember that this time his freshman year was when he had stopped being just another of the group and started being Blaine Warbler.) The five underclassman spent hours slaving over new arrangements and choreography that provided an invaluable backbone for their routines.

Dropping the half-packed bag, Blaine made his way over to the bed and straddled his boyfriend's back. "We've both been working too hard recently. We need a weekend away." He punctuated his statements with kisses dropped to Sebastian's shoulders. When the other boy remained unresponsive, Blaine forcibly rolled him over and tugged a stray polo over his head.

"Blaine."

"This is not an option," he firmly responded. "Nick is driving us. We are leaving our laptops and you are only allowed to bring one textbook. This," he hurriedly added as Sebastian opened his mouth to argue, "is absolutely non-negotiable. But if you're out of bed in the next two minutes you can bring your Russian and I'll pretend like it's for leisure.

"If, however, you are not out of bed by then. Dom and Charles Prescott are on standby and are more than willing to carry you to the car." Charles Prescott was on the lacrosse team but his frame was closer to that of a linebacker. And, while he was friends with Sebastian, he had a lot of pent-up resentment towards his captain based on their recently instituted 6 am four mile runs. The eagerness with which he had volunteered for the task had, frankly, been a little alarming.

"I hate you. We are not talking or having sex for at least a week," he grumbled sullenly when he realized exactly how serious Blaine was.

"That's fine."

Both of them were known for being good at everything they did. It was a quality admired in Blaine (who excelled with a beaming smile) and envied in Sebastian (who surpassed his peers with a smirk). What no one acknowledged was how much work they put into their attempts to achieve perfection.

Blaine had thought his need for perfection was bad, but it was nothing compared to Sebastian's who routinely ran himself ragged in his quest for excellence.

It took ten minutes and Blaine catching him trying to smuggle both his Calculus and Comparative Government textbooks (for which Blaine confiscated his Russian book) for Sebastian to get ready.

Sulking, he trudged down the hall and out to the parking lot before dramatically throwing himself into the backseat of the car. He was asleep before they even left Westerville.

"You're in for a fun weekend," Nick commented having noted the distance between the two of them as they walked to the car. While they weren't terribly affectionate in their displays, they were very physical. Whenever they were together there was rarely more than an arm's distance away from each other.

"He'll be fine once he gets a full night's sleep and eats a real meal instead of the granola bars he's been devouring for the last two weeks," Blaine said more confidentially than he actually felt. "He might even thank me one day."

"Oh, Blaine. Ever the optimist. If you're still alive on Sunday I'll be impressed."

xxx

It had been over a year since Blaine had been to the Houle's lake house. The summer between his freshman and sophomore year the three of them had practically lived there. (Richard had been preoccupied with getting ready to take off to Thailand but he had still made the trip over whenever he could.)

They had worked part time performing for Cedar Point, which was within easy driving distance. When they weren't at work they were lounging on the dock or belting out the theme from Pirates of the Caribbean as they kayaked around the lake. Richard had taught them all how to barbecue and Wes lead them in weekly campfire sing-alongs with songs he had learned that one summer he was a CIT at the boy scout camp his parents had sent him to for years.

On Blaine's birthday they had all gotten so drunk that when they woke up (spooned together in David's bed) at four in the afternoon they still weren't sober. The only solution, they had decided, was to deep fry everything in the house to stave off their inevitable hangovers. The evening was spent huddled miserably in the bathroom as they took turns throwing up.

That summer had ended with a pig roast and Blaine's sole attempt at smoking marijuana. They also almost had the police called on them when they decided to go skinny dipping at 3 in the morning with a group of girls Wes and David had secretly and steadily been making their way through all summer.

The house looked almost exactly the same as it had then. The flowers in the garden were only just starting to pop up, instead of being a tangled chaotic mess of colors and smells and it looked like David and his father had finally gotten around to repairing the banister on the side porch.

"We're here," he said gently, nudging Sebastian awake. He had hoped that sleeping for last three hours would have put him in a better mood but the sleepy way he was glaring at his surroundings said otherwise.

"Is that a lake?" He asked dumbly.

"Lake Erie," Blaine replied as he gathered up their bags. Nick was rummaging around in the trunk, collecting together the bags of groceries they had stopped and bought in town. "You really don't have to do that. You drove us all the way up here," he said as he got out of the car and hurried around to try and take the bags off of him.

"It's fine." Nick waved him off.

"When did we get groceries?" Sebastian wondered, looking bemusedly at the bags.

Grinning fondly, Blaine fumbled with the house keys and replied, "While you were asleep." He took a second trying to remember which key was to the front door and which was to the back porch before shrugging and resigning himself to having to try both. At least the shed and the basement keys were clearly demarcated.

Pushing the door open, he waved his hand to usher Nick and Sebastian in, directing them towards the kitchen. Although the water was on, he had to spend a couple of minutes crawling around in search of the outlet to plug the refrigerator in. At least he emerged dusty but victorious as the fridge grumbled to life. Even though it still wasn't sufficiently cold, they loaded their purchased food into it.

"Bathroom?" Nick asked when they were done organizing the kitchen. He had been there once or twice before, but not often enough to remember the layout.

Lacing his fingers through Sebastian's, Blaine lead the way from the kitchen down the hall to the bathroom. He might as well start the grand tour, not that there was really that much to show. He continued to pull Sebastian down to the end of the hall.

"So, umm, this is David's lake house. Or well, his parents," he explained tentatively because Sebastian hadn't asked but he assumed he'd be interested in knowing. "I sort of mentioned we- I needed to get away and two days later his mother was calling me from Dalton's parking lot with the keys." He smiled warmly at the memory. "Anyway. This is his room." He pushed open the last door on the rights and they poked their head into the room.

An entire wall was dedicated to bookshelves filled, Blaine knew, mostly with books that David had duplicate copies of at home or else trashy novels that he would only read when he was up there. Whatever shelf space wasn't taken up by books was filled with rock samples from when he had fancied himself an amateur geologist and inexpertly thrown pots and demented looking clay turtles because he loved ceramics but never learned to make anything else.

They ducked out of the room and were joined by Nick as they continued their tour. "We all stayed here one summer, so we kind of have rooms too. Even though they're actually guest rooms. But we all ended up kind of decorating them and then forgetting we had done it at the end of the summer. And they've kind of just left everything that way," he explained with an easy shrug.

The room next to David's was the smallest of the two guest rooms and Wes had been eager to claim it because there was only one window whereas the other had four. Even though they all had blackout curtains, he was adamant in his inability to sleep past 6 with that much light coming in.

After the size, the other drawback to the room was that it was (for some inexplicable reason) the only one in the house that was carpeted. And it didn't have just any carpet, it was this awful almost puce colored shag carpeting. Why the Houle's hadn't replaced it was anyone's guess. They certainly talked about it enough. But it was still there in all of its blinding glory.

"Then the kitchen/dining room/living room," he continued as they eagerly exited the room. "The TV gets three channels, if it's feeling charitable. But, as you can see, they have a huge DVD collection they leave here. David probably took some of them with him to college, but we should still have a healthy selection." He gestured broadly to encompass the entire open concept area. The far wall overlooked the lake and was made entirely of windows. He couldn't count the number of hours he had spent just sitting and looking out them. Including the one time they had locked Wes out in a downpour.

"Upstairs is the master bedroom and Mr. Houle's study. He has a really great book selection and doesn't mind if we borrow them, so feel free to check them out, if you want." He crossed the hallway and offered up his most apologetic look. "Almost done, I promise. This is the game room."

The centrepiece of the room was a pool table that Blaine could no longer look at after walking in on a very drunken David and an equally intoxicated brunette rather passionately (and nakedly) making out. He shuddered at the memory.

"And the linen cupboard." Quickly he moved down the hall and opened the closet door, pointing at the shelf of towels and washcloths. "And this is the room we'll be staying in."

It was a decently sized room with a large four poster bed, two medium sized book shelves and so much natural light that he had rarely ever turned on the lights. He had contributed the duvet cover and the framed maps on the walls. Originally they had just been stuck up with tack, but the Houle's had liked them so much they had asked if they could have them framed and kept there permanently. He had been more than happy to give them away, as much as he liked them he had no use for them. In fact, they had been sitting in the back of his closet for years.

"Well, I should probably head back," Nick said as the three of them awkwardly stood in the doorway.

"You can stay for dinner if you want. It won't be anything fancy. But you did drive all the way up here. It's the least we could do."

"Nah." He shrugged easily. "I'll stop by Burger King or something." Nick's obsession with junk food was definitely unhealthy, especially when he was stressed out. The week before he had taken the SATs he had gone to McDonald's every day.

"If you're sure..."

"Positive. And Jeff will probably be the one picking you up Sunday. I'll make sure he calls before he leaves."

"Thanks again." Blaine followed him to the door and waited until his car had disappeared from view before going back to the kitchen where he started pulling out pots to make dinner. Once the spaghetti was on the stove he went into the living room to flop down on the couch next to Sebastian.

"I still hate you," Sebastian murmured sleepily, lifting his arm up so Blaine could wedge himself against him.

"Okay." Tilting his head up, he kissed his boyfriend's chin because it was the nearest place he could reach. They lay in companionable silence until the buzzer went off to signify that the pasta was almost done. Sighing, Blaine heaved himself up, thoroughly surprised when Sebastian got up with him.

"Can I help?"

"Yeah.. Want to cut up some tomatoes?" He located the cutting board and pushed it across the counter. While Sebastian started chopping he drained the spaghetti, dumped it in a bowl and drizzled olive oil over it. When Sebastian was done he motioned for him to dump the tomatoes in too then tossed it all together.

"It's not much. But it's easy." Blaine shrugged as he plonked two bowls down. They ate without talking, shovelling the food into their mouths and only stopping to sip at water or help themselves to more.

"Leave it for the morning," Sebastian murmured when Blaine went to the sink to start doing dishes. The sound of the chair scrapping the floor filled the room and shortly after Sebastian's arms were wrapping themselves low around his waist.

"Bed?"

"Bed," he agreed.

As nice as falling into bed at 8pm, secure in the arms of his boyfriend had been, come 4.30in the morning he was regretting that decision. While Sebastian snored away (figuratively, not literally. Sebastian only snored when he was sick.) he had already been up for half an hour and definitely wasn't going back to sleep anytime soon.

Sebastian had this incredible amount of energy to him. Not like Blaine's boundless enthusiasm for the world which quickly ran out if he didn't get at least 42 hours of sleep a week. Sebastian, on the other hand, had the ability to just keep going on, like he had spent his entire life conditioning his body to forget it needed such basic things as rest and proper nutrition.

The flip side of that was that when he finally stopped, he _stopped_. It would probably be close to noon before he awoke and then it would take at least two cups of coffee before he would even contemplate doing anything beyond mindlessly staring at the television.

It was endearing, Blaine decided as he slipped from the bed and padded down the hall in search of a book to read as soon as it got light. He made sure to find a long one, knowing he'd be reading for quite awhile.

xxx

When they finally dragged themselves from bed it was mid afternoon and the sun was shining brightly, cheerfully bouncing off the water. After a snow-filled winter the sight was particularly gratifying.

Blaine was all for dragging out one of the deck chairs and enjoying the beautiful weather that way. On the other hand, Sebastian (after four cups of coffee) had started to grow restless and was vehemently suggesting they _do_ _something._ And maybe Blaine should have given this plan a bit more thought, because there was nothing about Sebastian Smythe that said he'd enjoy a weekend of total rest and relaxation.

So they unlocked the shed and took out the tandem canoe, which seemed like the perfect solution. It wasn't like paddling around the lake was a particularly strenuous activity but it did require a fair amount of physical activity.

Of the many things that Sebastian excelled at canoeing, somehow, wasn't one of them. Blaine hadn't even known it was something that you could be bad at. Cooper could do it and he had the attention span of a goldfish and the athletic ability of an infant.

But the boy who could run circles around his lacrosse opponents, command the attention of an entire auditorium and choreograph and flawless dance routine in a matter of hours was incapable. Fortunately, Sebastian seemed entirely oblivious to his failure as he paddled in completely the opposite direction from where he was trying to direct them.

Blaine shuddered as another splash of frigid water hit his side.

"Let's just float for a bit," he finally suggested. There was a gentle breeze that would hopefully push them back down the lake towards the Houle's with minimal effort of their part.

"It must be beautiful here during the summer."

"It was really great. Even working at Cedar Point was fun. And Richard would just show up randomly. We'd be out on the boat and get a call demanding to know why we weren't already on our way to the airport. And the 4th? Everyone on the water, watching the fireworks. We ended up trading our potato salad for a 12 pack. It's not south of France or anything..." Blaine teased. "But still a nice little vacation."

"I don't remember the last time I went on vacation," Sebastian said wistfully. "It's always about business. Packing must be a hell of a lot easier when you don't have to bring along your best suits," he snorted.

"What about before?"Blaine asked quietly, reaching back to rub soothingly at his boyfriend's leg.

Sebastian shrugged his hand off before saying, "We used to go somewhere every summer before Remy went to university. If Dad was living back here for work she'd be insufferable for _weeks_ beforehand because we'd only see him a couple of times a year and she is such a daddy's girl. She'd research wherever we were going and make really elaborate itineraries. Every single minute was scheduled and she always threw a fit on the first day when things didn't go exactly to her plan. Then she went off to school and never came back and he got a job in Chicago. We tried the first year, but times didn't align or something. Then we moved to Sydney and just gave up on the whole thing." He spoke in that far off way that meant he wasn't really talking to anyone but himself. "Everything changes when the oldest leaves the nest," he commented.

He snorted in agreement. His family would always be less dysfunctional than the Smythe's but his entire life had changed when Cooper left for college. Suddenly it was just him and his workaholic parents living in a house too big for an adolescent who was by himself most of the time.

"We haven't all been on the same continent, much less in the same room since I was nine."

Blaine kept quiet in case he had anything else to say. He knew that with everything that had happened recently that Sebastian had been spending an inordinate amount of him (for him) thinking about his family, even though he never actually said anything about it.

Two weeks before he had finally given Sebastian the letter from his grandfather. He wouldn't talk about what was in it but Blaine suspected it had something to do with his grandmother's will because he had spent an awful lot of time on the phone with his family's lawyer since then. He had spent a four days apologizing profusely for taking it before Sebastian told him to either shut up about it or blather on to someone else because for the last time it was _fine_.

"It's getting cold. We should head back," Sebastian said abruptly, grabbing his paddle and roughly shoving it into the water.

For the rest of his life Sebastian swore that he hadn't actually moved that much but Blaine had just opened his mouth to try and falter his way through some sort of non-pitying yet apologetic and comforting sentiment when he was suddenly absolutely freezing and taking in mouthfuls of water.

xxx

Hours later he was still shivering despite the sweats and three layers of blankets. His teeth had finally stopped chattering but every couple of minutes a fresh wave of chills ran up his spine, causing him to huddle in on himself. Next to him, Sebastian wasn't fairing much better, although he had taken the approach of cocooning himself as much as possible and laying stiff as a board.

"Coffee. We need coffee."

Blaine nodded in agreement. He had been thinking about it for about twenty minutes but making coffee would mean leaving behind the little warmth he had managed to accumulate. Five more minutes, he kept telling himself because surely in another five minutes the chills would stop and he could brave the cooler air outside their little nest.

"Wish my luck." Suddenly the weight of the bed was shifting and he had an extra layer of blanket being tucked around him.

"Take the blanket with you," he called after his retreating back but it didn't come out as loud as he intended it to. "Fuck," he muttered after a couple of seconds. He gathered the duvet around him and dashed down the hall, socked feet skidding a little on the floor as he turned the corner out of the room.

Sebastian was standing in the middle of the kitchen with his arms crossed protectively across his chest as he started intently at the coffee machine willing it to brew faster. His hair was endearingly rumbled and Blaine was pretty sure that the way his heart was stuttering in his chest had nothing to do with his impending hypothermia.

"Here." He pressed himself against his boyfriend's back and, pushing himself up on his tiptoes, enveloped the both of them in the downy confines of his duvet. They both sighed as Sebastian relaxed back into him.

"Want to set up camp in there?" Sebastian nodded his head towards the living room as he busied his hands with pouring their drinks. "Maybe watch a movie or something?"

Cups of coffee in hand they curled up on the couch together. Without much debate they shad settled on Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid which they had both seen enough times that it wouldn't matter if they dozed off halfway through. Neither of them was a particularly big fan of westerns in general but exceptions could always be made for Robert Redford.

When they sat down it was actually with the intent of watching the film but somehow less than twenty minutes in Blaine found himself twisting around in Sebastian's arms and they began exchanging slow, lazy kisses.

It was nice. The two of them laying cocooned together on the couch, tongues sliding against each other as their bodies did their best to meld themselves together. Neither of them felt the hot consuming rush of arousal that urged them towards more, towards faster and frantic and left them panting messes. He liked that too, a lot. Sometimes to a degree that was detrimental to getting anything else done.

But he enjoyed this too. When there was no rush, no promises or obligations to fulfil, even if they were ones he was more than happy to see through. It was just them.

He really liked just them.

* * *

**I continue to be blown away by all the people who are reading this and every review I get makes my day. Thank you so much everyone.  
Also, I umm think there's only one more chapter left? It'll possibly be a long one though? And then a short epilogue? **

**So since that'll be happening sooner rather than later I was wondering what your thoughts on something was. I'm thinking about posting some of what I call Lost Moments after I'm done. (Basically deleted scenes) Is this something anyone is interested in seeing? If yes, would you rather I continue posting them here or start a new 'story' for them. **


	34. Chapter 31

**Okay, gratuitous gratitudes first, I think. Then you all can finish this in peace.  
When I first dreamed this up about a year ago it was going to be a five/six chapter **_**klaine**_ ***shudders* thing. Oh look how times have changed.  
Honestly I never could have made it this far without the support from all of you. I'm still pretty sure that the traffic stats are completely lying to me about how many people read this, because it is literally unfathomable that so many of you are interested in my word vomit. But thank you all, so, so very much.**

* * *

One of Dalton's best kept secrets was that the clubs did, in fact, have faculty advisors. The Warbler's advisor was named Mr. Llewellyn. He was a history teacher who specialized in medieval Europe. He had actually been Blaine's teacher his freshman year, but it wasn't until Nationals that Blaine had learned of his involvement with the Warblers.

When it came to travelling Mr. Llewellyn was very high strung, for which he couldn't entirely be blamed. Not only did he have a fear of flying, he was also charged with the task of watching a group of really rather rowdy teenage boys who spent way too much time cooped up on Dalton's campus. It wasn't that they misbehaved, exactly, but they did have a bit of a tendency to wander off when they weren't supposed to and maybe cause the slightest bit of mischief here and there.

This year some of them were lucky. Due to an unfortunate mix up, half of them ended up being booked on a different plane. Since the faculty advisors were encouraged to be there to check in by 2pm, that meant the early flight left at just after 7.30 in the morning. Not only did the later flight leave at the much more sane hour of 11.30, they also got to escape the neurosis of their advisor. Instead their (unofficial) chaperone was Wes' father, who frequently travelled back and forth between Columbus and LA. Rebooking his ticket to their flight had been much easier than trying to find a flight that all of them could get on and still be in by the early afternoon.

Unfortunately, despite the fact he was on the late plane that didn't mean Blaine got to sleep in because Sebastian had taken his kind gesture of getting up to see them off as an implication that he was awake for the day. Every time he was just about to drift off again, his phone buzzed with yet another complaining message which ranged from taking issue with how the van smelled to being more than fully aware of what items were allowed in his carry-on, thank you very much.

**To: Sebastian Smythe  
Im sorhyyyhb**

He typed out his reply with his eyes only half open and one hand struggling to prop his head up. An hour later he was startled awake by his alarm and found that he had an e-mail from his boyfriend instead of another text message.

**You could have just told me you were going back to sleep.  
Don't forget to pack an extra tie. (I have your second pair of shoes. You left them in my room.) Don't let Vince eat too much candy during the layover.  
I'll try and secure us a good room. ;-)  
-S.S**

xxx

LA was hot, especially compared to Ohio which seemed to be desperate to resist the oncoming summer. Despite the fact that it would be nice to see the sun every once in a while, it was a little hard to regret the cooler temperatures when they were expected to live in their blazers.

Five minutes just walking outside and they were all sweating.

"Let's just order pizza," Trent groaned.

Someone had mentioned that they saw a grocery store nearby on the way in so the Warblers that weren't locked in last minute dance rehearsal decided they'd go procure dinner for everyone else. They'd been walking for ten minutes and while they found plenty of interesting looking places, none of them had food.

"The clerk in there said the nearest one she knew of was about 15 minutes walk from here," Nick said, emerging from one of the stores.

"Fuck that," Tristan snorted turning on his heel and heading back to their hotel. With agreeing grumbles the rest of them followed.

The walk back didn't seem as bad as they heatedly argued over what they should order for dinner. Pizza was almost immediately overruled because they could get that anytime in Westerville and 'Come on. We're in a _real city_. Live a little," as Dom declared. Frey was making a pretty strong case for Thai or Indian and Nick was trying to argue Greek.

They were half way across the hotel lobby when Blaine was suddenly accosted from behind with a loud shout of 'Blainey!' echoing in his ears.

"Coop?" He twisted around in the arms squeezing him in a bear hug to start bemusedly at his older brother. "What are you doing here?"

"Like I would miss the opportunity to see my little brother perform in my own hometown!" He ruffled at Blaine's hair in what he clearly thought was an affectionate caress. "Mom gave me your hotel and I thought why not swing by and see what you and all your little friends were up to."

"Just busy getting ready for tomorrow." He forced out a friendly laugh. He was really glad to see Cooper and excited to know that he would have someone cheering him on in the audience. He just faced his brother best when he had time to prepare himself for the encounter.

"So then," Cooper pushed him away and clapped his hands together enthusiastically as he turned to the larger group. While Blaine didn't know what, exactly was coming, he did know that it wasn't going to be good. "Which one of you is dating my little brother?"

He inhaled so quickly that he choked.

"Now, now, squirt," he said over Blaine's strangled hacking, "just doing my brotherly duties. Have to make sure that this one is as good as the last. Although," he dropped his voice to a stage whisper, "I'm not sure any of these guys are up to snuff. " He paused a moment to look them all over contemplatively. "Maybe him," he added pointing at Nick.

The waves of jealousy rolling off of Trent were practically palitable.

"Sebastian isn't here right now," Nick said magnanimously when Blaine continued to be unable to do anything but gape at his brother. Despite the flush that was creeping up the back of Nick's neck he was composed as ever. "A couple of them wanted to get in some last minute practice."

"An artist dedicated to perfecting his craft? Admirable."

"Most of them were on the late plane. We all rehearsed earlier," Trent eagerly informed him, not wanting to be seen as a slacking off on his duties.

"You got in late today, baby bro. Why aren't you with them?"

He didn't know if he was more mortified by Dom's not-a-whisper of 'he gets plenty of one-on-one practice' or Tristan blurting out the truth which was 'Sebastian didn't want to be distracted by Blaine's ass.'

"Where can I find these hardworking gentlemen?" Cooper asked innocently, ignoring Blaine's protests with a dismissive "They have to stop to eat sometime."

Reluctantly Blaine trailed behind Cooper as he followed Trent's directions to the conference room that they had taken over. He tried not to feel too betrayed; Trent had basically been a slave driver for the last three weeks and all it took to break that was Cooper Anderson fluttering his eyelashes. It was something he really should be used to by now, his brother came around and suddenly nothing else mattered.

Ever the dramatic, Cooper threw open both doors and marched right on into the conference room. Embarrassed, Blaine hung back although he was unable to keep the smirk off his face when Sebastian's voice snapped out, "Did I say we were taking a break?" presumably in response to the interruption. Sheepishly he edged his way into the room, ignoring Sebastian's questioning glare in favour of quietly laughing at Cooper indignation over being made to wait.

They ran through the entire routine twice before they were allowed to stop.

"How do you know I'm not scouting out the competition?" Cooper asked as Sebastian strolled over to them.

"Because," Sebastian paused to take a long drink from his water bottle. "I know my competition."

"All 40 teams?"

His smirk stretched into a triumphant grin. "There's 49 others, actually. 50 in total. And I know all the ones that matter. And Blaine obviously knows you and wasn't too concerned." Easily he looped an arm around his boyfriends waist and brushed his lips in a shadow of a kiss against his temple. "So who is he?" He asked Blaine, jerking his head in Cooper's direction.

"He's the guy from the freecreditratingtoday commercial," Vincent breathed just as Blaine was thinking how blessedly silent the other Warblers were being. "Abercrombie turned him down because he made all their other models look bad." Blaine rolled his eyes.

"Did they now?" Sebastian mumbled quietly as he unashamedly dragged his eyes up and down Cooper's body.

Suddenly Vincent was pushing passed them and gazing up at Cooper with the same doting expression he had worn as he followed Sebastian everywhere at the beginning of the year. "My girlfriend is a such a big fan of yours. She has a poster of you over her bed and everything."

For a brief moment the room fell into an uncomfortable silence before Sebastian mercifully cleared his throat and said, "Honored as we are by your presence, might I enquire as to what, exactly, you're doing here?"

Jeff was practically vibrating with the effort it was taking for him to not say anything, but like all the Warblers who knew who Cooper was, he knew how uncomfortable Blaine was about it.

Disentangling himself, he moved to stand between the two of them before saying, "This is my brother, Cooper. Coop, this is my boyfriend Sebastian." The two of them stared at each other for a long moment before stepping forward to shake hands. "He was hoping to take us out to dinner," he muttered quietly enough that they wouldn't be overheard, pretty sure Coop's offer didn't extend to the entire group. "I think he wants to get to know you."

Sebastian looked distinctly uncomfortable with the idea. "I'm not really sure we have time for that," he whispered back.

Blaine looked at his watch; it was going on 7.30. "Maybe just the hotel restaurant? Or order up room service?"

"We should be done in fifteen."

So while Sebastian finished up with the Warblers then showered Blaine and Cooper caught each other up on their lives and Blaine tried not to keep awkwardly staring at the rumpled bed sheets that his brother was so casually sitting on. Coming back to the room probably wasn't actually a good idea, since he and Sebastian had been engaged in a rather heated make out session there only a few hours ago before Ben had come banging on the door requesting Sebastian's presence for another dance rehearsal.

It only got more awkward when Sebastian emerged from the bathroom, hair still dripping with water and Cooper took to looking between him and the bed with _that_ knowing look. Sebastian, of course, pretended like nothing was amiss and carried on the conversation; asking after Cooper's latest auditions and, while definitely not fawning over him, at least politely humoring his stories and in turn told some over-exaggerated (yet not too scandalous) boarding school adventures of his own.

As far as boyfriend meeting the family went, it could have gone a lot worse, Blaine supposed as he headed back to his room after walking Cooper out to his car.

xxx

They had spent months working their asses off for this moment. They had fought and argued over the five songs they would be performing. Three for the first round, and two in case they made the showcase. An extra two waiting in the wings in case the unthinkable happened and someone else used one of their songs. Hours of debating which should go where.

Then there was the moment of crisis when they found out they were scheduled to go on right before lunch. The audience would be bored, the judges restless and even if they brought their best they could be overlooked. They had to be better than their best.

Even Sebastian was nervous. His song was a calculated risk. The vocals arrangement was just outside his comfort zone and departed significantly from the original, the choreography rigorous, and the song choice definitely unexpected for an all-male a cappella group.

Of course it wasn't as risky as their planned showcase duet, which was basically _Candles_ all over again with the hope that the judges were less homophobic and that Sebastian's confidence and stage presence would make up for the fact that he wasn't a countertenor.

Although their showcase songs wouldn't matter if they didn't make it in the top ten.

He felt the other Warblers shuffling in formation behind him and he took a deep, calming breath. "We've got this," he said confidentially, not looking back because the curtains were being pulled up.

xxx

"We should have started with a different song," Trent fretted as they filed back into the theater. They had endured the tensest lunch that any of them had ever eaten. It had actually taken almost the full hour for them to choke it all down between staring anxiously at their sandwiches for lengthy periods of times and the extended pauses following anyone saying anything. "Acapella is a dying art form for a reason."

He felt Sebastian's hand squeeze his own. The moment they had gotten off stage he had reached out to interlace their fingers together and hadn't let go since.

Although they agreed that adding more energy and choreography to their routines was the only way to remain competitive, they also recognized that they were the only acapella group in the competition. So while they power-packed their second two numbers with as much movement as possible, the first they had done as traditional as possible, reverting back to horseshoe formation with Blaine front and center.

"At least we didn't actually do _Sh-boom_," Tristan said mournfully.

None of them were interested in Cooper and Mr. Llewellyn's continuous reassurances that it had been a brilliant move and a fantastic change from the well executed, but frankly a little repetitive routines they had sat through prior. Even Blaine was sceptical, but he knew better than to express that aloud.

The group's anxiety only increased when not one, but two other groups performed one of the songs they had picked out for the showcase, should they be lucky enough to get into it.

Six and a half hours later, Trent was about to work himself into cardiac arrest as the atrium filled up with equally eager teens awaiting the results. The judging was taking even longer than it did last year, although Blaine guessed that was because they had professionals again this year instead of irrelevant celebrity judges who had probably become disenchanted with the idea of show choir after the first hour of performances.

There was a commotion at the end of the hall and everyone froze, eve n Jeff who had been anxiously bouncing around for the last forty minutes. They all stared at each other. No one confident enough in their performance to want to look yet. Unfortunately they didn't have much of a choice as the sea of other competitors jostled them closer to where the top ten were posted.

"I can't look. I can't look," Frey squeaked with his hands clapped over his eyes as he spun away from the front of the group.

Not that they were able to see the board, even Sebastian who was the tallest and was stretched on his tiptoes with one hand digging into Blaine's shoulder for balance. In a last desperate bid to see the results before it was there turn, Vincent clambered up onto Sebastian's back and squinted over everyone else's head.

"Can you see anything?" asked Jeff anxiously. "Anything?"

"No." Everyone let out a sigh of disappointment. "Wait. Twelve Steps is first? And the something City Rhapsody are third."

"We don't care about first and third!"

"Unless it was us," Nick amended. "We care if it's us."

"Which it's not, obvi-"

"We're on the list! We are on the list!" yelled Vincent, interrupting Ben. "Seventh? No Sixth. The Dalton Academy Warblers. We. Are. On. The. List!"

To the council's credit, they gave them an entire three minutes of celebrating before Trent snapped out, "Conference room, one hour." They all groaned, but no one protested; they all knew that if they wanted to be anywhere near prepared for the Showcase it was going to be a long night.

xxx

A mere five hours after they had gotten to bed, they were nervously gathered backstage. It didn't matter that none of them were ready because a voice was yelling out that they were on deck. They had all stayed up hours later than they should have and it was only by Coopers intervention (and rather surprising cosmetic collection) that the bags under their eyes had been properly minimized and concealed.

Had their plans not been forced to change it would have been a very different outlook that they started their day with. But for all the many, many things they excelled at, Dalton boys were not renowned for their ability to accept change. The uncertain was by no means their friend and they could barely manage a weak smile at it, forget embrace it.

Even Blaine was feeling less than optimistic. He still had faith in them, of course. At the very least they made it into the top 10, and even on an off day they could still do better than Jefferson. But first seemed like a fleeting dream and he wasn't even sure it was conceivable that they could place in the top 5. A showman, of course, was best served by such a realistic viewpoint, otherwise your ended up hopelessly deluded like Cooper.

Sebastian was the only one who looked calm, although Blaine could tell that wasn't entirely the case because he kept subtly shifted his weight from one foot to the other and rolling his right shoulder. "Que sera, sera," he shrugged as Blaine shuffled closer.

Eight months ago it would have been so different. In September, Sebastian wouldn't have been anxious about the Warblers doing well. He might've been angry if they didn't, but he wouldn't have cared, not in the same way.

It had been why Blaine had approached him at the start of the year, tequila in hand.

That, he thought, should probably go in the category of his better life decisions.

Suppressing a grin, he pulled Sebastian against him and immediately felt them both relax into the embrace. There was just something about being wrapped up in his arms that made Blaine feel like he could take on the world.

Or maybe it was the way his boyfriend was smiling at him. Not in the blinding way he had, that could light up and entire room and he knew would always be breathtaking to see, but something much quieter that was normally reserved for when it was just them, tangled up together and thoroughly uninterested in the rest of the world.

Returning the smile, he pulled away and cleared his throat, immediately finding himself engulfed in a sea of red and navy. "We're here. We're in LA, in the Showcase. We have worked harder and sound better than we have in years. You should all be so proud of everything we have accomplished this year. And no matter where we place today, it has been such an honor to be one of you."

He had more to say, about brotherhood and Dalton pride but suddenly they were being ushered on stage and, really, it was probably for the best he was cut off because Trent's eyes looked suspiciously shiny.

xxx

"You definitely deserve a 'standing o'," Sebastian giddily quoted their duet as soon as they were off stage, tugging him further back into the building and pushing him into a dark corner.

"Yeah? Pretty sure we already got it." He replied, beaming as he gestured back to where they could still hear the audience cheering; the image of them all on their feet giving a standing ovation embedded forever in his mind.

Sebastian was smirking down at him; that look that melted most of him and had the adverse effect on one very specific part of him. "Not what I was talking about," he chuckled. Swiftly he dropped to his knees, already tugging at Blaine's belt, flicking his zipper open, and sliding his pants and underwear down.

"Oh. Fuck. Jesus, Seb," Blaine moaned loudly.

Drawing his head back Sebastian looked sternly up at him. "Not getting caught works a whole lot better if you keep it down. Can you do that on your own or do I need to help you?" His hands were already going up to his tie and starting to unknot it.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," he chanted as Sebastian's breath ghosted against his thigh. "I promise I'll be quiet. Just. Please?" He begged as he failed spectacularly from keeping his hips from unsatisfactorily grinding forward into nothing.

"Nope," Sebastian shook his head. "Not sure I can trust you." He stood up, pulling the tie from around his neck. Leaning in, he kissed Blaine, biting at his lower lip almost hard enough to draw blood.

"Please. Please, please," Blaine whimpered, rutting up against Sebastian's leg.

"Shh," Sebastian soothed before cramming his scrunched up tie into Blaine's mouth and sinking back down. "Shh," he whispered again, glancing up with hooded eyes and swallowing Blaine down until his cock bumped against the back of his throat before pulling back again. Blaine's whimpers were muffled by the balled up fabric but his hips were still thrusting shallowly. Sebastian moaned, and Blaine took that as a signal that it was okay to keep fucking his hips forward.

Then Sebastian was hollowing his cheeks and humming around his cock and Blaine's eyes snapped open just in time to see Sebastian roughly palming himself. Quite suddenly he felt like every one of his nerve endings was burning up and he was unravelling at the seams.

As he sank to the ground, he dimly registered someone calling him in the distance. Sebastian collapsed next to him, groaning in frustration as whoever was looking for them got closer.

"Tell them I'll be there in a minute," he groaned between hotly licking his way into Blaine's mouth and struggling to pull both of them to their feet.

"Where're you going?" He asked dazedly to which Sebastian only winked over his shoulder as he hurried down the corridor.

"Blaine!"Jeff cried happily as he turned the corner and spotted him. "Where have you been?"

"Just needed a minute," he muttered. "Too much excitement."

"I know what you mean. I really think that was our best performance this year. Maybe ever." Jeff buzzed around him completely oblivious to exactly what caused him to be in such a dishevelled state. "Have you seen Sebastian? He disappeared too."

"I think he went to the restroom."

Nodding sagely, Jeff agreed, "He did have an awful lot of coffee this morning. He drinks even more than my dad." Jeff wrinkled his nose, "Does he have, like, really awful coffee breath all the time?"

With a quiet laugh, Blaine slung his arm around Jeff's shoulder. "Come on. I really want to see the last few performances."

He hadn't realized that Sebastian managed to drag him so far back into the theatre. In their rush down it, it seemed like they were literally just off stage but actually they had somehow managed to go quite far back into the theatre. By the time they made it back into the auditorium there were only three other choirs left to perform.

Watching them, he knew that the competition was going to be close. All of the teams clearly deserved their spot in the top ten and although Cooper was swearing up and down that the group from Jacksonville was off tempo for at least 15 seconds of their final number, Blaine was having trouble finding much fault in any of the performances.

When it came time for the judging, no one left the room. Unlike the day before, the judges were put on a strict 1 hour time limit, although it was not at all uncommon for them to take less than their allotted time.

Three rows down from the Warblers a poor underclassman was locked in an internal battle over whether she had time to run to the bathroom. Every few minutes she would start to get up, only to throw herself back into her chair when she caught any vague hint of movement coming from the direction of the stage. Simon and Luke were keeping everyone amused by providing her with a running monologue of her dilemma.

The poor girl had just decided to go for it and was halfway up the aisle when the judges reappeared after half an hour of deliberation.

"Psst," Frey whispered, poking Sebastian and looking briefly terrified at his audacity. "We have to go."

"What?" Sebastian jerked his head away from where he had been staring at the judges to see an usher standing in the aisle, beckoning at them. Shrugging they got up and followed him.

"Does this mean we placed?" Simon asked in confusion. They and four other teams were being arranged across the stage; the curtain down blocking the rest of the audience from view. The excited chatter grew as everyone realized what was going on; that they were the top 5 and in just a few short minutes the 2013 Show Choir National Champions were going to be declared.

As the curtains were drawn back, the Warblers grouped themselves together in the tightest knot possible. In the middle of the gaggle were the five seniors. One of Blaine's hands was tightly clenching his boyfriend's and the other clasped between Jeff's and Nick's, with Trent just behind them, who was either intentionally holding his breath or continuously forgetting to breathe until he was forced to take a loud gasping inhales.

Blaine didn't think he had ever wanted anything as badly as he wanted to win. Not just for himself, but for the thirteen boys clustered around him. The Warblers had been through a lot in the last few years. They might not be quite the happy, idyllic group that he thought they were when he first transferred as a broken and bruised freshman. But at the end of the day he had never met a group of people who worked harder and deserved to win more.

Collectively they sighed in relief as third place was awarded to the Jefferson City Airplanes. The applauded politely as the third place trophy was handed over, trying not to grin too broadly because it wasn't them that was receiving it.

It was a crapshoot as to whether they would announce second place and then first, or just skip right to the first place winners. From what he'd see of show choir competitions there was no consistency in how the top two places were announced. It seemed quite rude to him to just go right to first, but either way the runner up was ignored.

Either way he wasn't sure how he felt about accepting anything from the hands of the celebrity announcer, Kris Jenner. (He had still made sure to get a picture with her the day before. He could practically hear Sugar's envious shrieks because the Kardashian's were her idols and her number one aspiration in life was to be their matriarch..)

He felt Sebastian flinch as his anxiety grew and he took his nerves out on the other's hand. He could see in the drawn lines of Sebastian's face that he was feeling the same way, despite how hard he was trying to look like he wasn't.

"And in a very, very close second place," she announced, pausing overlong from dramatic effect, "allll the way from Westerville, Ohio, the Dalton Academy Warblers."

For a brief second he expected to feel disappointment, but all he felt was a rising surge of exhilaration as his friends erupted into shouts around him. Although, on second thought, that feeling might have been coming from the fact that Dom and Sebastian were suddenly hoisting him into the air and perching him on their shoulders.

He couldn't even hear the announcement of the first place team.


	35. Postlude

"Ready?" Blaine stood on tiptoes to hook his chin over his boyfriends shoulder.

"Ready," confirmed Sebastian.

"All checked in?"

"You were right behind me in line," he huffed turning around in Blaine's arms. "What took you so long anyways?"

"I had to pay a few baggage fees."

"How much did you pack? I checked two bags for you."

"I didn't want you to get arrested at the border when you tried to get through Customs with only a carry on."

"All my stuff is already over there." Sebastian had spent the majority of the summer in Europe doing Foundation work and whenever he had a spare couple of days he went to England, first for apartment hunting, and then to get everything set up. He had kept Blaine abreast of the progress through a series of pictures and he couldn't help but be incredibly envious as he sat at home in Ohio.

Blaine had opted to let a flat with a couple of people he had met via facebook; a boy who was doing his program, his best friend, and a girl studying medicine that Blaine had talked to when he first started looking at Imperial. The four of them were all new to London and had hit it off immediately. While he was excited at the prospect of living with them their flat was nowhere near as nice as Sebastian's.

"Put your passport away. It's embarrassing to be seen with you while you're holding that," Sebastian teased, running his hand down Blaine's arm until he was able to pluck the offending booklet from his boyfriend's grasp and slip it into his back pocket. Blaine shivered.

"We can't all hold dual citizenship, you know."

"What horribly mundane lives you all must live." Sebastian let out a sigh and shot Blaine a look over exaggerated pity.

"Good thing I have you to show me what I've been missing out on." Sebastian smirked at him in a way that made it really hard for him to not have horribly inappropriate thoughts in the middle of the airport. Furtively Blaine glanced around them expecting to see a sea full of glares but Sebastian had somehow managed to get them into a secluded corner. Blaine gulped.

"You know," Sebastian leaned down to whisper in his ear, "you should probably do take care of that _problem_ of yours. Wouldn't want some kindly TSA officer to think you were carrying a concealed weapon." He leaned even closer in and Blaine felt one of his hands just barely brush across his groin.

"I hate you."

"Yes. I can tell." Smirking, Sebastian stepped away and headed for security. "Hurry up. It would be awful if you missed your flight" he called behind him as he sauntered away.


End file.
